


Broken Crayons Still Color

by wisteriawrites



Series: Second Chances Are For Those Who Ask [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Humor, Discussions of death, Eventual Smut, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implications of suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jongho is Straight, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Minor Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa/Kang Yeosang, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Post-Break Up, References to Depression, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicide Attempt, Terminal Illnesses, Wax Play, Wooyoungs insane sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteriawrites/pseuds/wisteriawrites
Summary: College is supposed to be the time where you let loose and have fun. Most people make their lifelong friends in college.Choi San has issues with that.The only friend he managed to make became his first love. And then he left before the end of their first semester, chasing after an ex-girlfriend.Just when he was beginning to mend, when he finally has a solid group of friends he cares about, Jung Wooyoung waltzes back into his life and turns it upside down once again.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: Second Chances Are For Those Who Ask [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172249
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81





	1. No Turns to Maybe

Wooyoung is stupid.

He’s so ridiculously stupid, now that he thinks about it, standing in the lobby of the apartment building at the receptionist’s desk. “Choi San,” he says for the umpteeth time to the old woman seated over the desk. “Does he still live here?”

The woman is half deaf, and he’s trying so hard not to lose his shit at her. “Who’s asking?” She glances at him over her oversized glasses. Wooyoung sighs, fingers tightening on his backpack strap flung over his shoulder. 

“An…old friend,” he concludes. “So can you please tell me if he still lives here?” 

The woman stares at him for an uncomfortable minute, then says, “Who?”

Wooyoung groans out loud, hiking his backpack up on his shoulder further and moving to grab his small suitcase. “I’ll find out myself. Thank you,” and then he stomps off to the elevator. He presses the button and the elevator opens almost immediately.

As soon as he steps in and presses the button for the sixth floor, anxiety bubbles in his throat. He’s so, so stupid.

The elevator opens too soon. Wooyoung steps out, and muscle memory takes over and leads him to a very familiar door. He hesitates as he brings his hand up to knock. _Jesus, Wooyoung, just do it already,_ he thinks to himself. 

He knocks, and it takes long enough to get an answer that Wooyoung begins to think there’s nobody home. He’s just about to turn and head back to the elevator when the door flings open. “San,” he breathes.

“Wooyoung?” He nods, completely in awe. San has changed so much in just two years. He’s filled out beautifully. Wooyoung remembers him being a skinny little thing, but he can see taut muscle underneath the loose t-shirt San’s wearing. His hair is black with a stripe of turquoise in his fringe, and he just looks _so incredible._

San moves aside, silently inviting him in, and Wooyoung steps inside the apartment, slipping his shoes off at the door. San is just standing there, still staring at him in shock. Wooyoung gives him a small smile and makes his way to the couch, and San follows shortly after.

The silence drags on, to the point that Wooyoung grows uncomfortable. Then San is finally speaking. “What are you doing here, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung’s lip finds its way between his teeth before he can find it in himself to answer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you back? The last time you talked to me, you said you weren’t coming back.” San’s tone is accusatory, and Wooyoung can’t blame him. 

“I guess my plans changed.”

San’s sigh is audible from across the room. “So she broke up with you.”

Wooyoung is shaking his head before he realizes it. “She didn’t,” he began, and at the raised brow he gets in response, continues. “I broke up with her.”

San stares at him. He can’t decide what emotion is on his face. He just knows that this was stupid. He knew this would happen. He knew he wouldn’t be welcomed back with a hug and a kiss, not after how he left. All he can do now is try to explain and make amends.

“I’m not…I’m gay,” San scoffed and Wooyoung’s face fell. “I’m serious.”

“Are you? Because something else you told me before you left is that you’re not.”

“I know what I said. I was stupid, I’m still stupid, but I realized what I did wrong and I’m trying to fix-” 

Frustration was building in San, his face, his posture. “What is there to fix, Wooyoung? We weren’t together, so what is there to fix?”

Wooyoung could feel tears welling up in his eyes, the rejection was clearly there but he couldn’t just give up. He came to make this better, to try and start over. “I…I want to try again. Properly.” San’s laugh was harsh enough to force the tears to spill over. He’s so stupid.

San looked like he wanted to send him out, reject him one more time, but the person he knew, the one he left, came out and everything about him softened. With a sigh, San asked, seeming to notice his bags, “Do you have anywhere to go?”

Wooyoung shook his head. He saw San stand and cross the room into the hallway, and when he came back he had a pillow and a blanket. Wooyoung took them with a sniffle. “You can take the couch until you find a place.”

Wooyoung nodded his thanks and waited until he heard San’s bedroom door click shut to finally release the sob that had been clawing at his throat.

♠

_He was so screwed._

_There was no way he was starting university this way._

_San had gotten lost on the way to class, and now he had to brave being late. Finally finding the room his lecture was in, he tried to slip inside unnoticed but the door slammed shut behind him and drew the entire class’s attention._

_He apologized profusely and made his way to an empty seat. San set his bag down and pulled out his computer to take his notes, and the movement caused his headphone case to hit the floor. He swore under his breath and bent down to pick it up, but found a hand already offering it to him. He hadn't even noticed there was someone in the seat beside him._

_The boy was smiling at him, the case still offered to him. He took it with a quiet “thank you” and the boy smiled brighter. “You look like you’re having a bad day, so I thought I’d try to make it a little better,” he said. San found himself smiling back at the boy._

_Sitting in that seat is something he cherished each day yet simultaneously regretted more than anything._


	2. I Shouldn't Be Jealous, You Aren't Even Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second performer yells, “San’s finally here!” Cheers erupted throughout the small group and they finally put San down, and it seems that Wooyoung has been completely forgotten already. When he’s resigned himself to just being a spectator, a third performer seems to notice him, a shorter one than the other two, and crosses over to him. Wooyoung isn’t sure what to say to him, but he beats him to it. “You’re Wooyoung, right?”

Wooyoung awoke to the sun streaming in from the window. It was bright, causing him to block it out with his arm over his eyes. A small bang sounded from the kitchen, startling him. He sat up sleepily to find San looking over the kitchen island at him. 

“Did I wake you up?”

Wooyoung shook his head with a yawn and rubbed his eyes. He could feel how swollen his face was, not only from sleep but also the crying, and when he ran a hand through his hair he could tell it was a mess, making him less than a pretty sight to see first thing in the morning. 

San came into the living room and sat at the end of the couch with his feet, worrying the inside of his cheek, and his hands placed in his lap.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he finally said. He looked so small now, guilt written all over his face. “I had no right to act like that. I’m not upset with you. I haven’t been for a long time. I think I was just…” He trailed off in thought, and Wooyoung finished the thought.

“Shocked. I get it. I probably should’ve expected it, considering I just showed up like this.” San nodded in agreement. Wooyoung took the chance to look around the apartment properly now. It was almost exactly the same as he remembered it, but there were framed pictures now on the shelves he remembered being empty the last time he had been here. 

San’s voice drew him out of his examination of the living room. “I meant what I said. You can stay until you find your own place.” 

Wooyoung smiled at him, crooked and tired. “I know you did.” Now that he was getting a good look at him, Wooyoung noticed that San was fully dressed. Dressed like he was going out. A sick feeling settled in his stomach. “Are you going on a date?” he asked.

San looked confused, and the feeling eased a little. “No, I’m meeting up with some friends.” The feeling returned tenfold. It was completely unwarranted, San was allowed to have friends. Wooyoung had occasionally seen some of them online where he had never been able to bring himself to unfriend San, and he always looked so happy with them in the few photos he posted with himself in them. His inner turmoil was interrupted by San asking, “Is it too much?”

Wooyoung shook his head. He must have made him second think his clothing choices by assuming it was a date. “It’s fine. You look nice,” he affirmed. He looked better than nice, his sleepy brain supplied. The tight black jeans complimented his striped button down perfectly, and the top few buttons were left open. 

He certainly looked better than Wooyoung did with his bare face and bed head.

Wooyoung was about to lay back down when San said, “You can come with, if you want.”

He didn’t really think too hard about his answer. He didn’t want to be alone, and he actually did want to meet the people who seemed to make San so happy. So, he was nodding before he really thought much about it. “Just let me get ready.”

He really had no idea what he was getting into.

❅

Wooyoung had expected a few different things.

He’d expected maybe going to a cafe, maybe a movie, maybe even the zoo or the park or the arcade.

What he didn’t expect was to go to the shopping district, only to find a section of it blocked off by police tape. He didn’t expect to be allowed beyond that police tape (because police tape usually means there’s a crime scene, obviously), and he really didn’t expect to see a whole damn busking setup. 

Countless speakers, people already gathered around, and a few people bustling about to get everything finished up. Wooyoung didn’t know what the point of San meeting his friends to watch some random people busk was. That is, until one of the performers bounded over to them and pulled San into an embrace that lifted him off the ground. 

Wooyoung stared as San laughed, hands beating against the newcomer’s back. “Mingi, put me down!” The shout drew the attention of another performer who comes running at them full force and ends up taking San’s feet into his hands while the other (Mingi, he remembers) hooks his arms under San and the two carry him away, leaving Wooyoung standing there alone.

The second performer yells, “San’s finally here!” Cheers erupted throughout the small group and they finally put San down, and it seems that Wooyoung has been completely forgotten already. When he’s resigned himself to just being a spectator, a third performer seems to notice him, a shorter one than the other two, and crosses over to him. Wooyoung isn’t sure what to say to him, but he beats him to it. “You’re Wooyoung, right?”  
This man’s voice is so deep compared to his elegant face that it took him a bit off guard. He could only nod dumbly and the man made a sound of realization. “Yeah, he said he was bringing you. I’m Yeosang,” he said with an outstretched hand. Wooyoung took it, and Yeosang began to go off on a tangent.

“Well, you already sort of met Mingi and Yunho. You know San,” he weaved through the little crowd with Wooyoung in tow, towards the group still setting up, now with San included. “So then that’s Hongjoong, and that’s Seonghwa,” he pointed at the two respectively. “And then that’s Jongho.” Yeosang finished. 

“And you guys are all friends? How do you even get a group this big?”

Yeosang’s grin was obviously meant to be devious but it was honestly nothing shy of adorable. “Kinda. It was more of a mutual friend group kind of thing that collected into the seven of us. Mingi and Yunho are together, and then it’s me, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa.”

That sick feeling returned to Wooyoung for the third time that morning. “So then are San and Jongho…?” Yeosang backtracked, his head shaking aggressively. “Nah, Jongho’s our one and only straight friend. Him and Mingi are the ones who dragged San into this, though.” Wooyoung hummed and found his gaze wandering over the group. They were all in some state of preparation, Yeosang seeming to be the only one ready. He noticed the small mic that was already taped onto his cheek, the cords running down the back of his shirt and into the mic pack secured to his waistband. 

Then it finally hit him. “You guys are singing?” He could practically see Yeosang’s chest puff out in pride. Even so, the only answer he got was, “You’ll see.” And then he was walking away to help everyone else keep setting up.

❅

And Wooyoung saw.

He saw something he had thought only idols who trained for years could manage. They weren't just busking, they were basically putting on a concert. And they weren’t even doing covers like he had been thinking they would. He’d never heard any of these songs before, nor had he ever heard the name of the group, so he knew they had to be original.

And the choreography. It was incredible. Whichever one of them that was in charge of that had his respect as a dance student. The moves were addicting, had him analyzing and subtly copying at some point around halfway in.

To say he was in awe was an understatement, to say the least.

The shortest of all of them soon announced that they would start some solo contents, and as he finished up and they actually began to do covers, Yeosang bounced over to him again.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked as he pulled up two folding chairs from the sidelines. 

Wooyoung spluttered as he sat, words beyond him now. “What do I think? You guys are basically idols, what the hell?” 

Yeosang’s laugh tinkled in his ears. Hongjoong was covering a 3racha song in the background (mad respect from Wooyoung, he thinks he loves the man already), and the others were gathered behind him recording reactions. “Who wrote those songs?” Wooyoung asked. He followed Yeosang’s gaze to where Hongjoong was still spitting fire. “He did?” His voice raised a few octaves with the question. Yeosang just nodded proudly and he leaned back in the chair, awe renewed. 

“Please tell me he’s going into a music production career.”

“He’s trying. We’re all trying to in some way or another,” Yeosang replied.

The dance student in him made itself known again, had him sitting up straight excitedly. “And who choreographs this? Because I think I love whoever it is.”

Yeosang’s thoughtful hum was definitely over exaggerated, but he didn’t comment on that. “That would be Yunho and San.”

Wooyoung’s excitement turns to shock in an instant. “San?” 

“Yeah. San.”

Wooyoung’s back hit the chair again, a huff leaving his lips. Mingi was rapping in the background to one of Monsta X’s IM’s mixtape songs (again, mad respect for these men). “I didn’t know he could do that. Or any of this.”

Yeosang’s gaze turned a little sour. “He’s been working really hard at this for a while now.”

“Oh.” 

A perfectly shaped brow raised in his direction. “How long has it been since you talked to him?”

“About two years,” he sighed. Yeosang whistled lowly. 

When he said nothing else, Wooyoung was drawn back into the performance in front of him, Mingi nearing the end of his solo. Both him and Hongjoong were insanely talented, and it had him itching to see what the rest of them had to offer. 

While they were in the process of switching out Mingi for Seonghwa, Yeosang spoke up again. “It’s not really my place to tell you everything, but you missed a lot. He was having a really hard time when we all met him. We’re not really convinced he’s doing better.”

Wooyoung let the information sink in as his gaze wandered to San. He looked so genuinely happy, over there mocking Seonghwa and his ITZY dance cover. He couldn’t imagine he was still feeling under the weather, seeing his smile bring out his dimples and make his eyes crinkle.

He tuned out for the rest of the busking session.

❅

Wooyoung ended up getting Yeosang’s number. There was no harm in making new friends, and he had really liked him.

San looked visibly less tense after they all parted ways. He even hummed to himself through the disaster that was making dinner (Wooyoung ended up finishing it. He couldn’t stand watching everything go unstirred for another second).

They ate together on the couch - Wooyoung’s bed - and ended up watching a movie (of course they had to argue over which was better, Fellowship of the Ring or Two Towers, first. Obviously it was Two Towers, though). San had changed his clothes, now bundled up in a loose hoodie and shorts. Wooyoung swore he had seen cellulite on his thighs but it had been covered by a blanket before he got a better look. 

He was drifting off to sleep right where he sat when a thought bubbled in his brain and spilled from his mouth. “Your friends seem nice.”

San hummed in response. “Yeah, they’re fun. You seemed to get along with Yeosang.” Wooyoung gave a hum of his own.

Frodo was being drowned by dead people on the screen, and he found himself wondering what drowning felt like. _It probably feels like when you accidentally snort water up your nose,_ he thought.

“He was cool,” Wooyoung finally said. “He said you had a rough time for a while.” It seemed like even the drama in the movie fell silent. It was a while before anything else was said between them. San was the one who broke the silence.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Is it okay if I ask what happened?”

There was another stagnant pause. “Just…the usual, but times a thousand. School stuff, remember? Not wanting to be here anymore. I almost got expelled at one point.”

Wooyoung doubted that was the truth, but it sounded plausible. San had always hated school. It made enough sense. “Do you at least have a major now?” 

San nodded. “Dance. And minor in business management.” 

The conversation ended there. The movie ended soon after, and Wooyoung fell asleep on his couch/bed before San had even picked another movie to watch.

♠

_San tossed his book across the bed with an exaggerated groan. Wooyoung glanced up from his own book at him. “I feel that on a personal level,” he joked, then went back to studying._

_“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” San complained. “I should just drop out. There’s no point in staying if I don’t have a major. I could go back to Namhae and run my dad’s taekwondo studio.”_

_Wooyoung looked up again, this time looking scandalized. “And leave me here alone? Hell no.”_

_“Then what’s the point?” He emphasized his words with aggressive typing. “A general education?”_

_San sighed. At least Wooyoung wasn’t nose deep in his book again. “Where will that get me?” Wooyoung shrugged. “I just know that general education is better than none.”_

_He had San fixed under a pointed look, but he knew his friend wouldn’t really stop him from leaving if he really wanted to, no matter how much he said he didn’t want to be alone. With another sigh, he reached over the bed and pulled his book back towards himself with a mumbled, “Fine.”_

_He didn’t miss the small smile pulling at Wooyoung’s lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full ensemble has been formed already!
> 
> Just to clear things up, ❅ is a skip in time, and ♠ is the beginning of a flashback.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> And don't forget to download whosfan to collect votes for kingdom early and stream ateez's mama stage!!


	3. I Need You To Love Me A Little Louder Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He found San bundled up on the couch watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with a mug of tea in his hands. It dawned on Wooyoung that Christmas was coming up soon. He’ll have to buy presents soon, he thought.
> 
> God, he really needed to find a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW  
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS REFERENCES TO ABUSE  
> IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS, IGNORE THIS CHAPTER AND COME BACK FOR THE NEXT ONE

Wooyoung decided he might actually hate Yeosang. Or at least whoever had given him a key to the apartment (he wasn’t blaming San because he wasn’t capable of hating San, so he would blame one of his other friends who might also have a key). Either way, he hated someone.

It was way too early to have someone literally sitting on his chest and waking him up. Opening his eyes told him it was late enough that the sun was out, but that was about all he got before Yeosang was demanding he get up.

Paired with being woken up multiple times by San coughing during the night, Wooyoung really wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with this so early (but he did make a mental note to ask San if he was feeling okay, because there was no reason he should’ve been able to hear him coughing all the way from the living room).

He had said he was taking Wooyoung shopping, to which he argued that he didn’t have money to spare on clothes right now. Yeosang didn’t seem to care, just insisted he be ready in twenty minutes.

Which led him to now, where he was in the passenger seat of Yeosang’s car, slumped against the back of the seat. Yeosang didn’t seem to care as he hummed to the tune of the music playing on the radio. 

“Why do I need to go shopping, anyway?” he asked as they pulled into a parking spot.

Yeosang put the car in park and looked at him, a hand dramatically placed on his leg. “You need to have a hoe phase.”

“Hoe phase?”

“Yes. A hoe phase,” Yeosang looked dead serious but Wooyoung was struggling with holding in his laughter. The hand on his leg delivered a small slap.

“Look, you just came out. You need to experience the wonder that is hoeing around this city. How many guys have you slept with?”

A flush rose to his cheeks and he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the content of the discussion. “One,” he answered honestly. Yeosang’s hum was probably meant to be sympathetic but he took it as ridicule. “I rest my case.”

Wooyoung huffed, slumping further into the seat. He registered the driver’s door opening and shutting, then his own door being yanked open.

He put up as much resistance as he could, but apparently Yeosang was much stronger than he looked.

❅

Okay, so maybe shopping with Yeosang wasn’t _that_ bad. 

He had actually been very helpful with picking things out and had even paid for half of it because Wooyoung really wasn’t in the place to be spending money unless it was necessary.

They actually ended up with far less than Wooyoung had thought they would leave with. When Yeosang had said “shopping” he expected to leave with an entire store’s worth, but only settled on a few outfits that he thought looked good on him.

They parted ways at the elevator with a wave, Wooyoung’s arms loaded with his bags. The ride up was a little lonely with no one else in the elevator, but it was over soon and he was back inside the apartment before he knew it.

He found San bundled up on the couch watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with a mug of tea in his hands. It dawned on Wooyoung that Christmas was coming up soon. He’ll have to buy presents soon, he thought.

God, he really needed to find a job.

When the door closed, San looked up and waved in his general direction. “Hey,” he greeted.

Wooyoung flopped down on the couch next to him and let the bags fall to the floor. San only glanced at the logo on them for a second before a knowing smile spread over his face. “Yeosang?”

“How’d you know?”

“He did the same thing to me. Half of what I own is because of him.” He took a sip of his tea. “Did he give you the whole hoe phase spiel too?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung sighed. He looked over San’s face. He had some dark circles under his eyes, but didn’t all university students? He couldn’t really recall them being there the day before though. “Are you feeling okay? It sounded like you were up a lot last night.”

San rolled his shoulders. “I’m okay. It happens sometimes, especially after I go work out or anything really physical,” he said. As a second thought, he added, “My doctor doesn’t really know why it happens. Thinks it’s asthma or something.”

 _That makes sense,_ Wooyoung thought. He didn’t really know much about asthma, but he guessed that could happen.

As long as San didn’t have anything contagious, he would be fine.

❅

_The screaming had been going on for so long that Wooyoung didn’t know how long it had been now._

_His brain was so numb that he didn’t realize his brother was coming down the stairs until he brushed past him. He looked up and saw he had a backpack. “Where are you going?”_

_His brother looked over his shoulder at him for a moment before tugging on his shoes. “I don’t know. Anywhere but here.” Wooyoung’s mother was still screaming in the background as he stood from where he sat._

_“You’re leaving?” Panic was rising. His brother didn’t answer him._

_“You can’t leave me,” Wooyoung insisted. His brother sighed, stood beside the front door with his hand on the knob. “You can come with me.”_

_It was tempting. It really was. “But…who will take care of mom? And when she has the baby, who will help with him? Dad won’t.” His brother looked at him, sympathetic at first, and then his expression hardened and he finally turned the doorknob._

_“Goodbye, Wooyoung.”_

_And then he was gone._

_He didn’t even realize the screaming had stopped. “Wooyoung-ah,” his father slurred behind him. He reeked of alcohol. “Go make dinner.”_

_Wooyoung turned to face him, disgust in his expression. “Fuck off.” He began to walk away but his father drunkenly caught him by the wrist._

_“What did you just say to me, boy?”_

_He didn’t know where the courage came from, but he answered, “I said, fuck off.”_

_His father reached behind himself with his free hand and drew a folded belt from his back pocket. Wooyoung pulled against his grip but found it stronger and more steady than a drunk man had any right to. His father raised his arm and-_

Wooyoung woke with a start, panting and coated in a layer of cold sweat. A sob worked its way up his throat without warning and rang loud in the quiet of the apartment. A glance at his phone told him it was three in the morning. Before he realized what he was doing, he stood up and ventured down the hallway to San’s room.

He didn’t knock, just opened the door and walked over to the bed with half restrained cries. He shook San with more force than he meant but he didn’t care, he just wanted, _needed_ San to _wake up._ He stirred from where he was wrapped around a pillow, eyes opening slowly. 

“Wooyoung?” He mumbled sleepily. He finally noticed Wooyoung’s state of distress. “Hey, what's wrong?” 

Wooyoung opened his mouth to say something, anything to try and explain, but all that came out was another sob. San released the pillow immediately and held the blanket up in an offer. Wooyoung was climbing in the bed without thinking and he was soon engulfed in the warmth of San’s arms. 

He didn’t know how long they laid there. He felt bad for keeping San up with his crying, which only made it worse. At some point San began to sing softly, a song he didn’t recognize, but it did the intended job of calming him down eventually. 

When he deemed Wooyoung calm enough to speak, San asked, “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes,” his voice sounded pitiful even to his own ears.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Okay. You don’t have to.”

“What was that song?”

San’s hand found its way into his hair, calming him further. “My mom used to sing it to me when I would have nightmares. Guess it still works.” That made Wooyoung laugh a little and he slumped against San’s chest.

San began to move to get up, and Wooyoung instantly held his shirt in a death grip. “Don’t leave me,” he begged.

“I’m just going to get you some water.” Wooyoung held the shirt tighter. “Don’t leave.” San sighed and settled back down in his previous position. Eventually, Wooyoung broke the silence again, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay. You can stay here to go back to sleep if it’ll help.” Wooyoung nodded in response, already feeling himself drifting again. “Will you keep singing?”

Instead of responding, San resumed his mother’s song and Wooyoung easily fell back into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, we can see now that Wooyoung might have some abandonment issues? Yes, I think so.
> 
> I've been taking a much darker tone with all my writing recently, but I promise this will have a happy ending.
> 
> I want to take a moment to talk about the Yeosang situation. Please don't talk about it without censoring, and don't interact with the people posting such hateful things about him and push them back up in the twitter algorithm. And most importantly, make sure to shower Yeosang in all the love he deserves with #YeosangBeautifulAngel


	4. So Please, Tell Me It's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San heaved out a heavy sigh before speaking again. “After you left, I felt…” He stopped, looking at Wooyoung like he didn’t want to tell him. Like Wooyoung wouldn’t like this answer, but it was the one he wanted, so he nodded in encouragement. “I felt used. Like you only ever wanted me to explore yourself, and when you decided it wasn’t right, you could just leave and forget I existed. And I - I hated you so much for that, but I hated myself more. I hated that I let myself believe you might want to stay, that you might come back. I hated that I-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF SELF HARM

Since that night, Wooyoung slept in San’s room with him. The night after that, he had been planning on sleeping on the couch again, but as San stood and set off to his room, he had turned and asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

Wooyoung wasn’t one to refuse. 

It was a night about a week into this new arrangement that Wooyoung felt it. He had just been unconsciously running his fingers over the material of San’s shorts when it bunched up and his fingers slipped onto his bare thigh. It was subtle, but definitely there. Lifted ridges all along San’s upper thigh. At first he thought it was just his half asleep brain tricking him, but no, they were definitely real. 

He lifted his head from where it was resting against the pillow to look at San, looking peaceful. His eyes opened when he noticed Wooyoung was sat up now, hand still firmly placed against his thigh. “What’s wrong?” San’s satoori crept through his voice in his own state of sleepiness. Wooyoung just kept rubbing his hand up and down the ridges, and he soon watched San’s face twist up in an expression he didn’t know how to describe. 

His hand came down to grasp Wooyoung’s and pull it away, back over the blanket. It was silent in the room, the only sound being the late night traffic outside. Finally, San spoke up. “I haven’t been very kind to myself.”

And now Wooyoung understood. He understood what Yeosang had been talking about, why he, and all of San’s friends, were still so concerned for him. “Why?” His voice sounded small to his own ears. 

San looked like he was thinking about how to answer that in a way that would satisfy Wooyoung. He didn’t want to be satisfied, he wanted to know what was going through San’s head. “Tell me the truth.” 

San heaved out a heavy sigh before speaking again. “After you left, I felt…” He stopped, looking at Wooyoung like he didn’t want to tell him. Like Wooyoung wouldn’t like this answer, but it was the one he wanted, so he nodded in encouragement. “I felt used. Like you only ever wanted me to explore yourself, and when you decided it wasn’t right, you could just leave and forget I existed. And I - I hated you so much for that, but I hated myself more. I hated that I let myself believe you might want to stay, that you might come back. I hated that I-”

San stopped himself, shaking his head with a spiteful smile spread across his lips. “I would look in the mirror and see someone so pathetic and ugly that I couldn’t stand it. I would feel awful and do… that, and then I would feel awful for doing it and the cycle would go on and on.”

Wooyoung began to wonder how true San’s words had been the morning after he showed up. He’d said that it had been a long time since he’d been upset with Wooyoung, but this didn’t sound like the case. “How long has it been since you…?”

“A while. Almost nine months.”

“You don’t need to tell me anymore,” Wooyoung said, moving to turn over and have his back to San. He felt the bed shift as San moved as well. The silence settled again and gave Wooyoung the chance to mull over what he was just told. He had never realized he meant so much to San, that he took so much pleasure and enjoyment out of the arrangement they had agreed on. He should have. He had his moments, but he was by no means stupid. He _knew_ that he was San’s only friend, he _knew_ San was very dependent on him at the time, and he _knew_ that San was attracted to him at the least, and that he was lovesick at the most. 

And he’d left anyway. Left because he couldn’t handle his own truth, and lived in denial of it for two years, while San was still here, suffering and alone in this very apartment where they had so many memories. 

San’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked over his shoulder to find the other man on his back, staring up at the ceiling that looked like stained glass from the fairy lights tangled around the posts of the bed. “Sometimes I still look in the mirror and feel like that. It can be so hard not to resort back to that and go talk to someone instead.”

Wooyoung turned back over to face him and tucked his arm under his head. “You shouldn’t have to feel like that.” San turned his head to look at him. He gave him a sad smile, as if he read Wooyoung’s mind and knew exactly what he was thinking. “It isn’t your fault, Wooyoung. It never was. I blamed you for a long time, but it was never your fault.”

Before he knew it, San was turning back onto his side and sliding over into Wooyoung’s space to wrap his arms around him. Wooyoung tucked his head under San’s chin and breathed in the lingering scent of his soap, and he fell asleep like that in record time.

❅

Things finally began to look up.

Wooyoung (Yeosang) got himself a job working at the local sex shop. He was horrified yet not surprised at all that Yeosang worked at a sex shop. Now that he would have a source of income, he felt comfortable beginning to look for an apartment of his own.

It was just willing himself to start, that was the problem now. He had grown comfortable staying with San, and found himself feeling hesitant to leave. 

His laptop screen was blaringly bright even though the brightness was halfway down as he sat on the couch trying to force himself to just _press the link for this apartment listing._ San was sat in the loveseat across from him on his own laptop, headphones on and in the middle of class, so Wooyoung couldn’t even scream at himself for it. 

He was staring so hard at the screen that he didn’t even realize he was being spoken to. “Wooyoung?” He looked up, eyes wide, to see San with his headphones off now. “You okay?” 

He nodded, maybe too quickly to be convincing. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

San looked like he had his doubts, but repeated himself anyway. “I said I’m going to Namhae.” 

Panic rose inside Wooyoung and threatened to tip over. “Oh?” San nodded. He couldn’t leave, not now, not when he was still trying to get back on his feet-

“My parents really want me to come visit for the holidays, so I’m going when winter break starts.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” 

San set his headphones aside. “So you can stay here, or you could go stay with Yeosang if you want.” Wooyoung didn’t really want to spend all of winter break with Yeosang. As great as he may be, he wasn’t sure he could handle almost a month of him sucking face with Hongjoong or Seonghwa. Or both of them. 

“Can… I come with you?”

San raised a brow at him. “I mean, you could. I don’t know what your job would think since it's so soon.” 

Wooyoung closed his computer, the apartment listing long forgotten now. “I’m not supposed to start until after New Years. I think they’re fine with it.” San huffed out a laugh. 

“Okay. My mom will be happy to have someone new to torture.” 

Wooyoung ended up laughing with him, his earlier panic now died down.

❅

San was a complete wreck during his exams. Wooyoung had sat through one exam season with him and basically vowed never to do it again. Somehow, San had increased the intensity of that first time by a thousand. 

He had begun taking more time off work to study. His boss didn’t seem to mind much, which made Wooyoung wonder just how many times it’s happened. Most of the time he would fall asleep to the sound of quiet reciting of notes. 

Wooyoung was drifting in and out of sleep on the couch, Elf playing in the background, when San nudged him. He jumped at the sudden prodding and realized the _tap tap tap_ of the keyboard had stopped. He mumbled something unintelligible in response, trying to fade back into the nothingness that was sleep. 

“Lets go get something to eat.” 

“‘Kay. Pick something to order,” he slurred. 

“No, I mean lets go out and get something.” Wooyoung’s head perked up. “Like, go out and eat?” San nodded. 

“I need to do something besides sit here and stare at a screen for a while.”

Wooyoung really couldn’t deny that. They were soon out the door and leaving behind stress and school, headed out into the early evening.

❅

San’s exams flew by in just a few days. After all that stress and studying, it was just a few short days and he was done. He looked like he physically had a weight lifted from his shoulders. 

Only to be replaced by a new one when they boarded the train to Namhae. 

When Wooyoung noticed, he asked, “Do you not want to go home for the holidays?”

San sighed, head rested against the cold window. “It’s not like that. It's just that my parents always ask me when I’m going to get a partner and settle down. And they worry about me. It’s tiring. I appreciate the thought behind it, but it’s tiring.”

Wooyoung’s first thought was to offer to pretend to be San’s boyfriend, but he resisted asking. “But they support you?” San nodded. “That’s nice. It’s nice to know they don’t care about your preferences.”

“Sounds like your parents aren’t so understanding.” The mention of Wooyoung’s parents sent him into silence. San - the saint - noticed and his brows knitted together. “Are you okay?”

“That’s such a stupid question. ‘Okay’ isn’t an emotion someone can feel, so for future reference, if you ever ask me that question, the answer will always be ‘no’.” San held his hands up. “Okay. I won’t ask.” 

Wooyoung stared out the window for the rest of the train ride.

❅

Wooyoung understood what San meant when he said his parents were tiring. The second they walked in the door they were pulled into hugs by his mother, and his father was asking about school, how exams went, how work was. 

It was exactly like he had said. The thought was there, but it was exhausting. 

They at least made a real effort to include Wooyoung even though he was a last minute addition. He appreciated that, and even had fun helping the family decorate the Christmas tree. He did happen to notice San taking deep breaths on occasion, though. 

Dinner passed uneventfully, and eventually San’s parents went to bed, leaving San and Wooyoung on the couch. Wooyoung tried to cover up his yawn, but of course San noticed. “Tired?” He only gave a nod as his response. San stood up, turned the TV off, and gestured for Wooyoung to follow him. 

He led them down the hallway, and into the bedroom they would be staying in. Both their bags were already there, and Wooyoung wondered when San had brought them in. “This is my old room,” he sounded nervous even when there was no reason to be.

Wooyoung stepped inside the room. It was a typical bedroom. The walls were decorated with posters of various idol groups, the bed was made and likely hadn’t been touched since the last time San visited. What Wooyoung was most fascinated by was the shelves adorned by copious medals and trophies. He stepped closer and picked one up to examine. “Are these from taekwondo?” 

San visibly flushed. “Yeah. They are.”

Wooyoung put the medal back in its spot. “You must be good to get all these.”

“I’m okay.”

San was lying through his teeth and they both knew it. Wooyoung had seen him dance. He had even once seen him put his foot over his head as a dare. He knew San was flexible and that aided him in many ways. “Yeah. Sure. Just okay,” Wooyoung sat on the bed and crossed his legs. San followed him and flopped on the bed. He coughed, just a bit at first, then more and more aggressively, to the point that he turned onto his side and leaned over the edge of the bed. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what to do and ended up rubbing San’s back until the fit stopped. The deep breaths he’d noticed earlier in the day returned as San worked to catch his breath. “I know your doctor said it’s asthma but you didn’t even do much today. You should probably get that checked again.” San nodded in agreement, eyes closed and Wooyoung finally settled down next to him.

San’s arms almost immediately came to wrap around him in their usual position and they both fell asleep in their jeans.

❅

On Christmas night, Wooyoung woke up in the middle of night and couldn’t go back to sleep. He decided he would go get a glass of water and try to go back to sleep after that. 

When he walked into the kitchen he found San’s mother with her own glass of water and almost had a heart attack. She obviously felt the same way, as she had a hand over her heart. “You gave me a scare, Wooyoung,” she laughed.

“Sorry. I wanted to get some water.” She gestured to the cabinets. “Help yourself.”

Wooyoung got himself a glass and filled it with the tap. They stood in the kitchen together, sipping their water. It was quiet throughout the house and Wooyoung glanced out the window to see it was snowing. 

“How long have you and Sannie been together?”

He almost dropped his glass. His eyes must have been as big as saucers. “We - we’re not…” Words seemed to have left him and San’s mother flushed in a way San often did. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be assuming things like that.” Wooyoung wanted to say it was fine, but his heart felt like it was inside his throat and all he could do was nod while she continued. “He just talks about you so fondly that I thought you might be. He was so excited when he met you.”

She had such a pleased smile on her face and it made Wooyoung feel horrible. “You make him very happy, Wooyoung.” It took all he had to bow and say, “I’m glad I could do that.”

San’s mother’s smile grew even more and his throat constricted. “ _I’m_ glad he was able to have someone like you there for him when he went through his rough patch. Your parents should be proud to have raised such a wonderful son.” Wooyoung finished his water without another word, bid her goodnight, and went back to bed.

On Christmas, Wooyoung realized that he had truly broken San’s heart.

♠

_San brushed his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair as he slept, hand ending its trail at the nape of his neck with a pet. He almost didn’t believe this moment was real. They were both very naked and very marked up. San’s fingers found their way to a mark on Wooyoung’s neck, right over the very prominent vein there._

_He knew this wasn’t good for either of them. He knew he was just a rebound because Wooyoung’s girlfriend broke up with him. But his crush had blossomed into so much more now and he wouldn’t have been able to say no to him no matter what._

_San was so, so very screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up getting a lot more heavy than expected, but I still hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I'm looking to explore Wooyoung's issues more in the future, but I swear this has a happy ending.


	5. Thank You For Being On My Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San led him up the stairs until they reached the roof. When San opened the door, Wooyoung found the roof decorated with the fairy lights from San’s room, and a table set with dinner. Wooyoung stood inside the doorway in shock. It was a while before his brain caught up with him. “Did you do all this?”
> 
> San nodded sheepishly. 
> 
> “Wow.” 
> 
> “Is that good or bad?” 
> 
> “It’s good. This is…” Wooyoung was at a loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS OF ABUSE, MENTAL BREAKS, AND CHILD MURDER

Wooyoung and San went home the day after Christmas. Wooyoung started his new job the day after New Years, and San was only able to get into the doctor on New Year's day, so they left earlier than planned. 

Saying goodbye to San’s parents actually felt more emotional than it had any right to be. As his mother pulled him in for a hug, she whispered, “Take good care of him, Wooyoung-ah,” into his ear and Wooyoung almost burst into tears. They left him and San at the train station, and as San was walking up to the ticket stand, Wooyoung made a rash decision.

“Can we stop in Gyeonggi-do before Seoul?”

San looked at him, a brow raised. “It’s a little out of the way, but I guess it’s fine.” Wooyoung nodded. “I’d like to stop. Just for a little while.”

San paid for the tickets without a second thought.

❅

The nostalgia of being back in his hometown hit Wooyoung like a truck. He hadn’t been back since he left for university, and seeing his childhood home look so much smaller than it used to felt strange. 

San didn’t question him when he gave their taxi driver the address of a hospital, didn’t say a word about it when Wooyoung fell quiet on the way. He didn’t pry when they walked up to the front desk and he asked the receptionist for his mother’s room number. 

He didn’t offer to come in the room with him when Wooyoung paused at the threshold. 

San stood outside the door patiently as he sat across the table from his mother. She wasn’t paying attention to him, didn’t even seem to notice he was there at all. She just stared out the window. 

“Mom?” 

Her gaze shifted to him. Her eyes lit up in recognition, but his hopes were dashed. “Oh, Kyungmin. Look how tall you’ve gotten.”

“Mom, I’m not Kyungmin. I’m Wooyoung. Do you remember me?”

Her face twisted up in confusion. “Wooyoung?” Hope rose up once again but it was lost once again. “I don’t have a son named Wooyoung. Don’t play tricks on me, Kyungmin,” she laughed, but Wooyoung wasn’t laughing. 

“Don’t you remember me?” he asked again, his voice growing more desperate with every word. “Mom, I’m Wooyoung. Your second son. You have to remember, Kyungmin is-”

“Get out.” His mother’s voice was hard now. “I don’t know who you are, but you are not my son.”

“Mom-” 

“Get out!”

Wooyoung wiped at the tears he hadn’t realized had fallen and stood up, offered her a bow. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, and then he stepped back into the hallway where San was waiting. He didn’t even need to look at him to know he had heard everything. 

“Is everything okay?”

He appreciated the effort San made to not ask him “are you okay?”. He nodded, tears on his cheeks forgotten.

“Let's go home.” 

❅

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what San was planning, but he was growing exceptionally suspicious of him everytime he went in and out the door. He just wanted to sit and watch Frozen II in peace. 

During the Show Yourself sequence, he felt a tap on his shoulder and found San standing behind him on the couch. He was bundled up in his coat and had Wooyoung’s in his hand. “Come on.” Wooyoung eyed him long enough that he whined. “Just come on.” He took his coat and followed San out the door. 

San led him up the stairs until they reached the roof. When San opened the door, Wooyoung found the roof decorated with the fairy lights from San’s room, and a table set with dinner. Wooyoung stood inside the doorway in shock. It was a while before his brain caught up with him. “Did you do all this?”

San nodded sheepishly. 

“Wow.” 

“Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s good. This is…” Wooyoung was at a loss for words. He was on autopilot as he moved over to the table and sat down. The food smelled amazing - his mouth was practically watering. San sat across from him, a bottle of cheap champagne in hand, but Wooyoung couldn’t care less about the price. He would’ve been impressed with takeout and beer. 

Their meal was shared with chatter about everything and nothing. They were tipsy before they even finished eating, laughter loud and clear in the cold night air. San was telling an elaborate story about the time he and his friends went to Australia for a week and Wooyoung’s stomach hurt from laughing. 

“And then Mingi goes, ‘I cannot English’ and starts using body language instead and asking about Albothy,” he said in between his fits of giggles. “I’m so glad Hongjoong got that on camera. I thought I was gonna die when I saw it the first time.”

Wooyoung felt tears spring to his eyes from laughing so hard. It had been a long time since that had happened, but it felt so normal with San that he didn’t even wonder when the last time he cry-laughed was. “I hope you never let him live that down.”

“We haven’t.”

He calmed down enough to look and see that it was snowing. San seemed to have noticed, too. “What time is it?”

San glanced at his phone for a second and then his eyes went as big as saucers. “It’s almost midnight. Come on,” he stood from his chair and Wooyoung let himself be led to the edge of the roof. San sat down, and he followed. 

Once midnight hit, fireworks began to go off from somewhere within Seoul and lit up the sky. Wooyoung watched them in awe, like a child watching his favorite movie. When he forced himself to look away from the light show and towards San, he found himself even more fascinated. San wasn’t even doing anything special, he was just sitting there watching the fireworks like Wooyoung was, but he was just so ethereal. 

It had to be the champagne. There was no other explanation. 

“San?” 

San turned to look at him, though it looked like he had to put in a lot of work to do so. 

“Do you promise to never leave me?”

San’s brows knitted together in a way that made Wooyoung’s throat constrict in shame. He was about to tell him to forget it when San pulled him closer and tucked Wooyoung’s head under his chin. 

“I promise.”

The fireworks were reaching their climax now, reds, blues, greens and golds painted across the black of the sky. With liquid courage coursing through his veins, Wooyoung pulled back from San enough to look into his face. 

And then he leaned in and connected their lips.

❅

The first thing Wooyoung noticed when he woke up was that San wasn’t in bed. 

The second thing he noticed was that he was completely naked. 

Wooyoung sat up with a groan, his lower back twinging. Memories from the night before came rushing back to him along with a headache. 

God, he didn’t know how, but San had turned into some sort of a sex god and he was absolutely living for it. He looked around the room, as if San would appear before his eyes if he did. The reality hit him quickly and he was out of the bed and searching the apartment before he could think about covering himself up. 

San wasn’t in the living room or the bathroom. When Wooyoung moved into the kitchen, he found a pan of half eaten eggs and an uncooked instant ramen on the counter. Then he noticed a post-it note on the refrigerator door. 

_Went to the doctor. Breakfast is on the counter._

Wooyoung had to laugh at himself for being so ridiculous. San would never up and leave like that. Not after a night like that. 

He went and pulled on a pair of sweats and cooked the instant ramen, then settled down on the couch to wait for San to come home. He was watching a drama when he finally came in. Wooyoung glanced at him and noticed that he looked…empty. 

San sat down on the couch beside him and didn’t say a word. “San?” He finally looked at Wooyoung. “What did the doctor say?”

What he could only call recognition registered on San’s face. “They took a bunch of tests. I don’t know what they think it is.” Wooyoung felt that there had to be more. “Sounds serious if they’re doing tests.”

“Guess asthma is serious.”

Wooyoung just nodded. His attention went back to his drama but it was quickly brought back to San with a hand on his chin and lips pressed against his. _Oh._

Their lips moved together even as Wooyoung climbed over San to settle in his lap. They only separated when Wooyoung asked, “Do you really want to do this again?”

San shook his head and his heart dropped for a moment. “I want to do what you came back for. Try again properly.” Wooyoung hardly let him finish before he was kissing him again.

❅

“Wooyoung?” Wooyoung hummed from where he was settled against San’s chest. “You don’t have to tell me, but who is Kyungmin?”

He turned his head to be looking into San’s face. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but felt that he owed at least this to him. “You remember how I once told you that my dad wasn’t a good person?”

San nodded. “I never told you why he wasn’t.”

“You didn’t.”

Wooyoung sighed. “He would drink and…hurt us. My mom, me, my older brother. But my mom got it the worst. Even when she was pregnant with Kyungmin, he still drank and abused her. When my older brother left, he lost it. And then my mom had Kyungmin and he-” his words caught in his throat and a hand soothed down his back. “Kyungmin was crying one night and he was really drunk, and he killed the baby. He’s in prison now, and my mom went crazy and ended up in that hospital. That was why I came here. To get away from everything.”

San didn’t say anything for what felt like a lifetime. “I’m so sorry, Wooyoung.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It isn’t your fault.”

“But I am. Nobody deserves to go through all that.” 

Wooyoung, feeling the need to find a bright side to the disaster that was his life, said, “But all of that brought me here. To you.” He watched as San fought against the small smile pulling against his lips. “I wish you had been brought here a different way.”

Wooyoung knew San was still happy to have him.

❅

_“So, what did you do for New Years?”_

_Wooyoung shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything.”_

_San gave him a pout, but he actually was upset. “Why didn’t you tell me? My parents would’ve been fine with having you over for the holidays.”_

_“Parents are overrated.” San was taken aback by that. “What do you mean?”_

_“I mean, parents kinda suck.”_

_San scooted closer to Wooyoung on the couch and took his hand. “You shouldn’t say that. You should always appreciate the life your parents gave you. You wouldn’t be here without them.”_

_Wooyoung sighed. “I’m sorry. My parents just weren’t that great, especially my dad. He was pretty awful.”_

_“Come here.” San opened up his arms and Wooyoung was instantly clambering to curl up in them. His heart swelled at the contact, even though he knew it was only temporary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working really hard to get these holiday chapters up before the holidays.
> 
> We also had a virus that will not be named scare in my home today (don't worry, we're all fine) that gave me some time off work to finish.
> 
> But also, they're finally back together???


	6. I Am Dying To Believe You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang slapped a cap on his head and told him to bake. Wooyoung sighed, checked his phone, put it down, then checked it again. Nothing. There was nothing from San and nothing from Hongjoong. Seonghwa, ever observant, took notice.
> 
> “He’s going to be fine. San’s strong. He won’t give out so easily.” 
> 
> “I know. It's just… it’s never been that bad before. He went to the doctor but he didn’t really tell me anything except that they ran some tests on him.”
> 
> Seonghwa hummed, a very unhappy sound. “That’s… not like San at all. He usually tells us about what’s going on.”

Wooyoung actually didn’t hate his new job at the sex shop. He really only had to put up with people who were either really curious or had no clue what was going on with the butt stuff (not that he was _super_ experienced in it either, but he was quick to pick up on the things Yeosang told customers about it and San was also an absolute _god_ at butt stuff). Yeosang was really fun to work with and the job seemed all around perfect for him. 

To say Yeosang was disappointed at Wooyoung’s lack of hoe phase when he told him that he and San were kinda but not really official now would be an understatement. He spent the rest of that day whining about how he even spent money on the hoe phase and it was all for nothing. Wooyoung tried his best to cheer him up by saying he’s a hoe for San, getting a glare in response, but he knew Yeosang laughed about it when he walked away to help a customer.

All in all, Wooyoung really thought his life was looking up. 

San and his friends decided they wanted to go busking again before the next semester started up. They all agreed to it even though it was cold, except for Mingi because he was sick. So on an absolutely freezing day in January, Wooyoung was stood outside and bundled up as much as possible.

They went through what Wooyoung now knew was their usual set, but instead of going through and doing individual performances like last time, they came together and did a cover of Hayeoga. He really needed to learn to stop being so amazed every time they do something, because he had a feeling it would never stop. 

At least, he was amazed until he realized there was something wrong with San. 

He was doing a good job at hiding it, Wooyoung would give him that much credit, but he could see it. He could see the way his chest was heaving in a way it hadn’t the last time, hear it in the way his voice became more raspy than he knew San had meant to make it. Since the scare at Christmas, Wooyoung had read up on asthma and discovered there were a lot of causes for bad flare ups, and cold, dry air was one of them. He wanted to just tell them to stop but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t need to.

It was almost the end of the song, someone was yelling “Let's go”, San was making to open his mouth, and then he collapsed. The small crowd gathered to watch let out a collective gasp and everyone was suddenly around San, Wooyoung being the first one. 

The music was still playing over the speakers, the spectators were in a tizzy, and the ones who had been recording were now either trying to get the whole scene on video or call an ambulance. The heaving of San’s chest could be heard through his mic and he was working desperately to try and get it off with shaky hands. Wooyoung pushed them away to do it himself and just as he ripped it away, the coughing started. He heard a girl yell over the commotion that an ambulance was on the way but he didn’t get the time to be grateful once he noticed blood. 

San was _coughing up blood._ “Oh god,” Wooyoung cried. “Sannie, hold on, help’s coming, just hold on.”

San didn’t respond, probably couldn’t, so Wooyoung just held his hand to let him know that he was there, even as he started sobbing. 

It felt like hours, but in reality might have only been about five minutes, before the sound of sirens started to come closer and closer. Paramedics appeared with a stretcher in tow and picked San up, forced Wooyoung’s hand free from his, _when had San started squeezing so tight?_ Wooyoung tried to follow them into the ambulance but San managed to say, “Hongjoongie-hyung,” and he realized that San didn’t want him to see him like this anymore. Hongjoong seemed the most collected out of all of them anyway, and he was probably the better choice, he thought as he watched him climb into the ambulance and as it drove away. 

He felt hands on his shoulders, heard Seonghwa’s voice somewhere in the distance saying, “Come on,” but all he could focus on was San’s blood on his hands that he hadn’t noticed before. 

❅

“Hold still.”

“Sorry.”

Wooyoung stopped fidgeting his hands, but almost immediately his leg started bouncing.

“If you don't hold still you won’t have eyebrows anymore,” Yeosang sighed, armed with a dye brush coated in bleach. 

“I can’t help it,” Wooyoung whined. “I’m worried about him.” Yeosang continued applying the bleach to his hair even though he was still bouncing his leg. 

“Hongjoong would’ve called us if he wasn’t stabilizing,” Seonghwa chimed from the couch. Wooyoung sighed. He was right. Hongjoong would call if anything were to happen, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. Yeosang was trying to make him feel better and he was just making it harder to do that. He put in a real effort to keep still so he wouldn’t lose an eyebrow to the bleach. 

He really didn’t even know why he agreed to it. Seonghwa and Yeosang had dragged him home with them and after he’d washed San’s blood off his hands Yeosang had sat him down in a chair in the living room and said he was doing Wooyoung’s hair. He’d been wary at first but then Seonghwa told him that Yeosang does all of their hair and he trusted him a little more. 

Yeosang slapped a cap on his head and told him to bake. Wooyoung sighed, checked his phone, put it down, then checked it again. Nothing. There was nothing from San and nothing from Hongjoong. Seonghwa, ever observant, took notice.

“He’s going to be fine. San’s strong. He won’t give out so easily.” 

“I know. It's just… it’s never been that bad before. He went to the doctor but he didn’t really tell me anything except that they ran some tests on him.”

Seonghwa hummed, a very unhappy sound. “That’s… not like San at all. He usually tells us about what’s going on.”

Wooyoung didn’t say anything else, just stayed in his little chair in the middle of the room to mull over his own thoughts and worries. Maybe he should just resign himself to having to stay the night and letting Yeosang finish his hair. 

❅

_God_ , it hurt so much. 

He couldn’t breathe, even though he was trying his damndest to. The lights of the hospital were flying over him at breakneck speed, a female voice was talking to him but he couldn’t hear what it was saying. He could register someone saying they were taking him to ICU, but it just hurt _so much_ and he didn’t care about that.

He was going to die. He knew it in his heart. He was going to die because he did a Seo Taiji cover.

The female voice was there again, the lights had stopped moving and he realized the stretcher had stopped moving and they were in a room now. His lungs felt like they were caving in even though he’d stopped choking them up before they got to the hospital. “San? Choi San, can you hear me?” He managed a nod.

The woman placed her hand under his and continued. “Okay, San-ssi. I can see you’re having trouble speaking, so I want you to answer my questions with your hand, okay? One tap for yes, and two for no.”

San tapped her hand once. 

“Can you verify to me that your name is Choi San and you were born on July 10, 1999?” He tapped once. Another nurse was working to get oxygen tubes up his nose. 

“Okay. Your medical history says here that you have idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. Is that correct?” He didn’t get to tap her hand because Hongjoong was saying, “Excuse me?” 

_Oh god._

The heart rate monitor he hadn’t realized was attached to him started beeping faster. The nurse, sternly but not rudely, said, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room. He’s very stressed right now.” 

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to say something, maybe yell at the nurse for kicking him out, or yell at San for lying to him, but he walked out of the room instead. 

“San, can you verify that the information I just shared is correct?” 

He tapped her hand once.

❅

It turned out that he wasn’t going to die. Not yet, at least. He might die whenever Hongjoong decided to come back, though. 

It was hard not to open his messages. Wooyoung was sending him message after message, each one more sickly sweet than the last. It made him smile, but he couldn’t open them. He didn’t know what to tell him yet. 

In the three hours since he’d been brought to the hospital he’d had almost every test under the sun. X-rays, CT scans, blood work, you name it. He had a steady flow of oxygen being forced into him but the doctor doubted he would ever get off it now. 

Once you go on oxygen, you never come off. 

He was dragged out of his twitter feed by the door opening and revealing Hongjoong with a coffee in hand. He was absolutely fuming and San was cornered. 

“You have something you want to tell me?” A brow raised. 

“I, um,” San stuttered, his voice nothing more than a rasp. “I didn’t know until after New Years.”

Hongjoong sat in the chair in the corner of the room with a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I just wanted everything to be normal. I wanted,” he forced down the crack in his voice that was threatening to break his composure. “I wanted to just die and not have to make everyone worry about when it’ll happen, or have anyone treat me different because you don’t know when it’ll happen.” His voice cracked despite his efforts and the floodgates opened. “I just wanted to be normal.”

Hongjoong’s anger seemed to seep out of him and he visibly slacked. “San, you’re not going to die.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re-”

“I am. There’s no cure.”

Hongjoong sat silently, completely still. Like he was waiting for the punchline so they could both laugh and go home. It wasn’t going to come. San scoffed. “This is my life now. The rest of it, at least.”

“What are you planning on telling Wooyoung?”

“I’m not.”

“San,” he sighed, looking disappointed. “You need to tell him. I don’t know him the way you do, but I can see that he’s… cracked. If you don’t tell him, he’ll shatter.”

“Or if I tell him, he will.” Hongjoong pulled his chair closer to the bed. He was never really the type to outwardly show his affection, so when he grabbed San’s hand and gave it a small squeeze, it rendered him speechless. “It’s your choice, but I think you need to tell him.”

San just fidgeted with his oxygen tube instead of answering. 

❅

Yeosang was in the middle of applying a light purple dye to his hair when his phone finally pinged with a notification. He almost took a dye brush to the eye, but it was so worth it to finally see a message.

**San:  
I’m okay. Thanks for trying to make me feel better :)**

Wooyoung sighed in relief and even Yeosang, who looked ready to actually shave his eyebrows off now, noticed his shoulders sag. “He’s okay?” Wooyoung nodded. “Good. So now you have no reason to not be still and I’m done being nice.”

“That was you being nice?” He got a dye covered finger to the nose in response. 

**Wooyoung:  
You really scared me**

He watched a bubble with three dots appear, disappear, then reappear over and over. Finally, it appeared again and stayed. 

**San:  
I’m sorry**

**Wooyoung:  
You don’t have to be sorry **

**San:  
But i am**

**Wooyoung:  
Then i’m demanding you stop being sorry**

**San:  
Wow pushy much**

Wooyoung let out a giggle at his phone, absolutely giddy that San really seemed to be feeling better. He could practically feel Yeosang roll his eyes above him. “You two are gross.”

“Don’t act like you don’t smile at your phone at work when Seonghwa-hyung sends you voice messages.”

“That’s different.” Wooyoung didn’t say anything back, just opened his camera and took a quick selfie, dye still on his nose and making sure to show Yeosang’s concentrated face in the background.

**Wooyoung:  
[photo attached]  
He’s being mean to me :(**

**San:  
:o purple??**

**Wooyoung:  
You're not even gonna help me?**

He watched the dots appear and disappear again. When he finally got a message back, his heart broke a little. 

**San:  
[photo attached]  
I’m not very scary atm**

San looked exhausted. He was pale, the color in his lips likely his own blood instead of actual pigmentation. He still puffed out his lips and cheeks the way he always did when he took selfies despite the oxygen tubes in the way and held up his hand in a peace sign to showcase his IV. 

**Wooyoung:  
You look like shit**

**San:  
At least I won't have hair dye on my nose for the next week ;)**

**Wooyoung:  
shhhhh  
What’s hongjoong doing?**

**San:  
[photo attached]  
Abandoned me for among us**

The photo showed Hongjoong leaned uncomfortably on the edge on the bed with his phone held above his face, indeed playing Among Us.

**Wooyoung:  
Do you guys know when you can come home?  
I think seonghwa’s having withdrawals**

**San:  
Lol sounds accurate  
Doc said maybe tomorrow afternoon**

**Wooyoung:  
:( but my cuddlessssss**

Yeosang had long since finished, a cap on Wooyoung’s head yet again. Now that he was free, he sped to the bathroom to try and save his nose from the wrath of the dye. 

**San:  
I knowwwww  
Tomorrow, i promise  
Even if you have to come here**

**Wooyoung:  
Deal**

His hair turned out nicer than he’d expected. It was a pretty lilac color and even though he would never tell him to his face, Yeosang did a good job. 

❅

San did get to come home the next afternoon. As soon as Wooyoung saw the message when he woke up, he bid Yeosang and Seonghwa goodbye and rushed home. 

San had told him he was getting discharged around 4 o’clock, so Wooyoung decided to make an early dinner. It wasn’t anything too overboard, just some kimchi fried rice and marinated chicken. He was just finishing with washing the dishes he’d used to cook when he heard keys jingle in the door.

He turned his head just as the door opened. San walked in, eyes searching the room for him and brightening up when they finally landed. 

He still looked exhausted, maybe even more so now, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep. And he still had the oxygen tubes. And an oxygen tank in tow. Wooyoung’s brows drew together in confusion as San approached him. His expression fell.

“I thought you were better,” Wooyoung said quietly.

“I know. It’s… It’s just for a while.” 

Wooyoung nodded, not really caring anymore. He just wanted to hold San, to feel his heart beating against his palm. San connected their lips, and they stood in the kitchen like that, Wooyoung’s hands on San’s chest, lips moving together slowly and with all the time in the world. 

Wooyoung was the one to separate first, but he still let San chase after him with little pecks to his lips. “I made dinner,” he giggled as the kisses moved to land all over his cheeks. 

“I’m starving,” San mumbled, which only made Wooyoung laugh harder because he still wasn’t letting up. “Then back off so we can eat.”

It took more coaxing, and plenty more kisses shared between them, but Wooyoung finally got San to go sit at the kitchen island and eat. 

❅

Wooyoung woke up alone, but he could hear San talking in the other room. 

He got up to use the bathroom, then strode into the kitchen to find San seated at the island on the phone. He sounded upset, so Wooyoung was planning on walking up behind him to offer a hug, but he stopped a few feet behind him at the conversation. 

“Mom, I know, but I-I have so much here. I have friends, I have a job, a life… I have Wooyoung,” he paused and Wooyoung could hear the tone of San’s mother’s voice over the phone, sounding in a tizzy. “If I’m going to die, I want to do it here, with him.”

Wooyoung’s entire being shook. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. San wasn’t going to die, it was just asthma, he couldn’t leave Wooyoung alone. He promised he never would. 

“You’re dying?”

San turned to look at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

♠

_San knew there was something wrong._

_Wooyoung never stayed silent in the car this long. There had to be something wrong._

_The car rolled to a stop and San heard the gear shift into park, and then heard Wooyoung sigh. “I’m not coming back for the next semester. I’m not coming back… at all.”_

_“Oh.”_

_He couldn’t look at him, just stared forward at the playground they were parked in front of. “And I… I think we should stop. Doing this. All of it. I’m not gay.”_

_“Oh,” San repeated. “Where are you going?”_

_“Siyeon’s university. In Busan. We, um, started talking again.”_

_San’s heart shattered. He couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t let Wooyoung know that. So he just said, “Okay.” The car gear shifted again and they were silently driving back to the apartment. San’s apartment. When Wooyoung pulled into the lot, San stepped out of the car and turned to him._

_“I wish you the best of luck, Wooyoung.”_

_He shut the car door and turned to enter the building before he could see the tear tracks running down his face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to update! With the holidays going on, I've been working like crazy and haven't had the time to write. Now that they're over, I promise to be more on top of everything.
> 
> On the other hand, this just got 10 times worse for them didn't it? I feel like I say this every time, but I promise there's a happy ending here


	7. Forever You Are My Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooyoung shifted around carefully, so as not to wake him, until his head was rested against San’s chest, ear right over his heart. The steadying beating against his cheek relaxed him. San moved underneath him with a quiet groan and Wooyoung held his breath, hoping he hadn’t woken him up. Arms came to wrap around him and he breathed out.
> 
> “Wooyoung?” San mumbled sleepily. Wooyoung turned his head to face him.
> 
> “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered. San leaned forward to brush a kiss against his forehead. “What are you still doing up, baby?”
> 
> “I can’t sleep.”

“You’re dying?”

San turned around to find Wooyoung stood a few feet behind him, looking like he was one wrong word away from bursting into tears. He promptly hung up on his mother without so much as a goodbye and stood from his seat. It was only a few steps between them but it felt like twenty miles. 

Wooyoung was already working himself up in hysterics, head shaking continuously, hands switching between tugging at the hem of his shirt and clawing at San’s arms. He kept saying, “You can’t die, you promised you wouldn’t leave,” over and over, like a mantra he was using to convince himself.

San placed his hands on each side of Wooyoung’s head, effectively stilling him, and the loss of movement seemed to finally break him. Tears flooded past his eyes and down his cheeks, over San’s hands, and his voice grew weaker and weaker until it faded away in a sob. 

He pulled Wooyoung gently, that damned oxygen tank following without his permission, over to the couch to settle him there. As soon as San was seated, Wooyoung was practically climbing into his lap, settling himself there, face buried in the juncture of San’s shoulder and neck. His entire body was shaking with the force of his sobs and it was all he could do to just wrap his arms around Wooyoung’s midsection and let him calm down. 

He didn’t know how long it took, but the wrath of Wooyoung’s cries subsided, probably because he’d tired himself out. San didn’t fully trust that he was calm enough to try and get him to talk, but he needed to speak his peace while he still had the nerve to do it. 

“Wooyoung?” A weak sound of protest. “Wooyoung, we need to talk.” A shake of the head. San sighed, smoothing a hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s back. “Okay, you don’t have to talk. I can just tell you what’s going on, is that okay?” He felt fresh tears drip onto his shoulder, but then Wooyoung nodded. 

“To answer your question… yes. I am dying.” A quiet sob pushed its way past Wooyoung’s lips. “You can’t die,” he mumbled.

San let his hand continue its path up and down his back. “I don’t want you to die,” he kept saying. San shushed him quietly until it subsided. “I know, baby, but I can’t… There’s nothing I can do.”

Wooyoung was dancing around asking what it was, he could tell he was. He could see that while he wanted to know, he also didn’t want to know. San wouldn’t tell him until he asked. He wanted Wooyoung to have some control over something for once. 

Wooyoung seemed to be done with the conversation, and San was grateful to be finished for now. He carefully lifted his face from where it was still buried against his shoulder. His heart broke at the redness of his eyes, the still drying tear tracks on his cheeks, but he was still his pretty Wooyoung. 

“You know that I love you, right?” Wooyoung nodded. 

“Then, all I want from you is to not treat me any different. That’s all I want.” Wooyoung looked like he had something he wanted to say, but he nodded again. His hands reached up and they came to a stop when they reached the tubes in his nose, eyes holding a question he might not have the will to ask. “It’s okay,” San whispered.

Wooyoung gently pulled them away. The lack of oxygen being pushed directly into his system felt strange at first, but it was a relief that he didn’t need to rely on it so much right now. He felt like he could breathe with Wooyoung. 

San brought his hand to the back of Wooyoung’s head in gentle encouragement. He understood, and leaned in to close the distance between them.

❅

The steady hiss of the oxygen tank pumping air into San’s body might have been a lulling sound under different circumstances. San was already fast asleep, but Wooyoung was still wide awake, watching the rise and fall of his chest. 

He was trying to treat San the same as he always would, he really was. But it was so hard when the knowledge that he could be gone in the morning was constantly hanging over his head and making him want to treat him like he was Wooyoung’s entire world. He _was_ Wooyoung’s entire world. 

Wooyoung shifted around carefully, so as not to wake him, until his head was rested against San’s chest, ear right over his heart. The steadying beating against his cheek relaxed him. San moved underneath him with a quiet groan and Wooyoung held his breath, hoping he hadn’t woken him up. Arms came to wrap around him and he breathed out.

“Wooyoung?” San mumbled sleepily. Wooyoung turned his head to face him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered. San leaned forward to brush a kiss against his forehead. “What are you still doing up, baby?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Slowly, a cheeky smile grew on San’s face. His previous sleepiness seeped away and was replaced by mischief. “Well, then we’ll just have to find a way to make you tired.” 

Wooyoung smiled despite himself, and met San halfway for a kiss. San’s hands wandered until they reached his hips while Wooyoung crawled over to straddle him. The hands on his hips caught on the hem of his shirt and tugged until it was up and over his head, then thrown over the edge of the bed and somewhere into the void of the room. The rest of their clothes were discarded in a similar fashion and soon enough, San was three fingers deep into Wooyoung.

He was already panting, so impatient for what he really wanted. The tips of San’s fingers brushed against his prostate and Wooyoung bit down a moan in favor of whining, “I’m ready, Sannie, please.”

The loss of San’s fingers was daunting, the feeling of being so _empty_ one of the worst he’d ever felt. San moved to sift through the bedside table for a condom but Wooyoung stopped him. “Don’t want it,” he said. He just took the lube from where it had been abandoned next to San’s hip and slicked up his cock, earning a hiss from him. “Want to feel you.” 

When San nodded, it only took him a second’s thought before he was lifting his hips and slowly sinking down onto San in one smooth motion. Wooyoung braced his hands against San’s chest as he adjusted, head leaned forward, eyes closed and his breath bated.

“Do you want me to fuck you now, baby?” San breathed and Wooyoung moaned, nodding eagerly, ready to take everything his San was going to give him.

“Yes, please, Sannie I-“ He didn’t even finish his sentence when San grabbed his hips into a tight, secure hold and thrusted his hips up into the pliant boy on top of him slowly. Wooyoung felt the ridges of his dick drag against his walls with his slow movements and he threw his head back once San hit the perfect spot. The grip tightened even more and he pushed Wooyoung down on his cock again, keeping him there and grinding up into that spot, wanting to see Wooyoung blabber and drool with the pretty stars in his eyes.

His heart clenched upon seeing Wooyoung catching his gaze with a happy wide smile before he leaned in to kiss him slow and passionate, the rhythm of their rolls slowing down even more to savor their kiss to the fullest. 

San knew Wooyoung had everything he needed and wanted, and he knew that he was everything Wooyoung needed and wanted as well. Even though sometimes they may not have too much time left to physically express their love, he knew it was there and that was everything he needed to know.

Wooyoung broke off their kiss to moan into his mouth, pushing them as close together as possible. San held him in place with his grip on his hips and grinded inside him slowly but surely.

“San-“ Wooyoung was able to breathe out before he tensed up and unraveled with a long broken moan in San’s lap, cumming in between their bodies. San held him through it but didn’t stop grinding until Wooyoung was twitching and sensitive, laying limply in his arms. He then chased his own orgasm, which hit him with only a few more thrusts before he spilled inside him.

They slowly came down from their highs, Wooyoung with his head on San’s shoulder and panting.

“You did so well, my precious baby,” San whispered and kissed Wooyoung’s forehead fondly. Wooyoung wound his arms around San’s neck, enjoying the gentle strokes he was spoiling his hair with as he collapsed beside him.

He supposed San did his job. He really was tired enough to allow the hiss and puff of the oxygen tube to lull him to sleep.

❅

San was concerned about Wooyoung. He had been sitting silently on his phone, not paying attention to Order of the Phoenix, for way too long. Wooyoung always sat at rapt attention when they watched movies together, _especially_ when it was a Harry Potter movie. Without fail. 

He was just growing worried enough to try and snoop when Wooyoung looked up and asked, “Are lung transplants actually treatment options for pulmonary fibrosis?”

San stared at him for a long moment in shock. “How-how did you find out…?”

“Hongjoong told me. But that doesn’t answer my question. Is it an option?”

San didn’t see a point in lying to him anymore. Not when he knew so much now. “Well… yes, but - Wooyoung, there’s risks with that, too. Do you understand that?”

Wooyoung practically threw his phone onto the coffee table. “But they’re risks that could save your life.”

“Or they could end it sooner than my body already will,” he snapped. “What do you plan on doing if my body rejects the new lungs? And even if they’re accepted, how do you plan on handling the recovery?” 

Wooyoung’s expression dropped, then schooled itself into one of defense. “If you would just consider-”

“No,” San said, leaving no room for further argument. He watched as Wooyoung opened his mouth, then closed it again and stood from the couch. The back of his head disappeared into the kitchen and San sighed then stood and followed after him.

He found Wooyoung struggling to pop the cork off a bottle of champagne left over from New Years Eve. San snatched it from his hands and put it back in its rightful place, then wrapped his arms around his waist. “No. Don’t do this,” he held onto Wooyoung even as his body started to shake. “Don’t turn into your father.”

Wooyoung turned around in his arms, shaking with the restraint of holding back sobs. San placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I don’t want to do it because I’m not ready to leave you. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you’ll be fine without me. Does that make sense?”

He felt Wooyoung nod, but he didn’t say anything. “Wooyoung, please don’t be sad when I’m gone. I want you to be happy. Find someone who will make you happy.” Wooyoung nodded again, but still didn’t say a word. “Promise?” 

“I promise,” Wooyoung finally mumbled as he pulled out of San’s grasp. 

San watched him reach back into the cupboard and retrieve the bottle of champagne again. He sighed. “Wooyoung-” But then he cut himself short as Wooyoung turned to the sink with his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle and smashed it inside the sink.

❅

Wooyoung didn’t know what he was doing. 

He didn’t know why he thought going to Seoul Prison was a good idea. It wasn’t. It was an even worse idea when he requested visitation with his father. 

He couldn’t hold still. He’d been sitting in the visitation area for almost ten full minutes now, eyes constantly on the door beyond the glass pane. On minute twelve, the door finally opened and he saw a face he’d prayed he would never see again. 

His father sat down in the chair across from him and took the phone from its hook, Wooyoung following the motion. Neither of them made to speak to the other for a long time. His father decided the silence had dragged on long enough. “Wooyoung,” he said. “I’m-”

“If you’re about to say you’re sorry, don’t bother.” His father closed his mouth. Sobriety suited him. “I hate you. I hate you so much, and I’ll never forgive you for what you did, but you’re the only family I have left to come to.”

Wooyoung watched his father’s expression tighten in something akin to pain. His eyes were soft, the eyes he remembered from when he was five. 

“My boyfriend is dying and he won’t do the one thing that could save his life, and I don’t know what to do to convince him,” he said into the phone, voice breaking. “I need help. I can’t lose him.”

His father leaned forward and offered him a gentle smile. “Wooyoung, do you remember when I was a real estate agent?” Wooyoung nodded. “Do you remember what I used to tell you I did whenever I sold a home?” He shook his head. He really didn’t remember. 

“‘I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse’.”

Wooyoung stared at his father, not understanding what real estate had to do with San. “Make him an offer he can’t refuse, Wooyoung.”

“I don’t know what to-”

“The time will come. You’ll know when you can.” That smile was so sickly sweet it couldn’t possibly be the same man he watched be hauled off in a police car. He decided he didn’t want to see anymore smiles from him. 

“I won’t be coming back, dad.”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung placed the phone back on its hook and stood up. He turned his back on his father and walked out of the prison without looking back.

❅

San really had no idea why he was so nervous as he twirled the small velvet box in his hands. Wooyoung loved him. He knew Wooyoung loved him. He’d never said it, but San knew. There was no way he would say no.

Wooyoung would be walking in the door from work any minute now and San had no idea what he was going to say. He didn’t get to think about it, because speak of the devil and he shall appear. The door opened and San barely had the box shoved in between the couch cushions before Wooyoung closed the door behind him and slipped off his shoes. “Hey,” he said.

San looked at him with as much feigned nonchalance as he could muster. “How was work?” 

Wooyoung flopped down beside him on the couch with a huff and curled into his side, hand dipping into the popcorn San had on the coffee table. San made a disgruntled sound and kicked at his hand until it popped the stolen snack into his mouth. “Well, I got to explain how anal beads work to like, a sixteen year old. So that was fun.”

“Why was a sixteen year old in a sex shop?”

Wooyoung shrugged. “He’s probably curious. I’m not about to stop him. I wish I’d been comfortable enough to be curious.” San felt that in his heart as he wrapped an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders. 

Wooyoung seemed to be immediately caught up in the middle of the first episode of The Witcher. “Why’s that old guy talking to Superman in the middle of an orgy?” San dragged his finger up and down the prominent vein in Wooyoung’s neck. “Okay, first of all, it’s not an orgy. Being naked doesn’t mean there’s an orgy. Second, he’s not Superman in this. He’s Geralt.”

“Then who’s the old guy?”

“A sorcerer. Just watch and find out.”

Wooyoung promptly shut his mouth and became invested in the show. San was more interested in finding the words he’d been trying to think of since Wooyoung left for work. It took an episode and a half for him to finally decide to say, _fuck it_ , and pause the show. Wooyoung looked at him with a pout. “I was watching that.”

“I know. I just want to talk to you for a minute.” San pulled his arm from Wooyoung and turned to fully face him, Wooyoung mimicking the stance. He took Wooyoung’s hands in his. 

“Jung Wooyoung, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. And I… I don’t think the rest of my life will be worth very much if you’re not in it. No, let me talk,” he said when Wooyoung began to open his mouth. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, I’m asking you to marry me,” San finished as he pulled the box from the cushions and opened it.

Wooyoung looked to be in shock. He was staring at the ring with wide eyes and San could practically see the gears turning in his head. He began to worry he would actually say no when he looked him in the eyes. “I’ll marry you on one condition.”

“Anything.” 

“I want you to do the transplant.”

San sighed, “Wooyoung, this might not end the way you want it to. Chances are even if it goes well, I still won’t last as long as you’re thinking I will.”

“If something goes wrong, I have to deal with it. I know that. I just want you to try. So, I’ll marry you if you try to live for me.”

San pressed his forehead against Wooyoung’s. They were so close that he could probably count every single one of his eyelashes. He took the ring from its place in the box and slipped it onto Wooyoung’s finger. “Okay.”

The smile that spread over Wooyoung’s lips was reward enough already. He was being showered with kisses before he realized it and then Wooyoung was climbing into his lap and mumbling the words he’d been dying to hear out loud for two and a half years. “I love you, Sannie.”

“You just blackmailed me, you little minx.”

“Just say it back, dummy.”

“I love you, too.”

What could he say? Wooyoung made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this chapter, but I'm enjoying the developments. I don't know how many chapters I'll have left, or if I should have the rest in one big chapter.  
> your opinion matters! if you have ideas, you can always let me know what you're thinking!


	8. Just Think About Flying in The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a sigh, he called out. “Wooyoung?” 
> 
> Wooyoung looked over, then over his shoulder when he realized he wasn’t at his side anymore. “You go ahead. I’ll-I’ll wait here,” his throat constricted for more than one reason, but embarrassment was the one San could feel in his heart. He would have been able to do this without a problem a year ago, and now he was ruining it for Wooyoung. So much for trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TW***
> 
> WOOYOUNG MAKES COMMENTS IMPLYING SUICIDAL THOUGHTS
> 
> PLEASE BE AWARE OF THIS, OR LEAVE AND COME BACK NEXT CHAPTER

On the days San felt like absolute shit, days he felt like he couldn’t move an inch, days when he clung to the devil known as the oxygen tank, Wooyoung was always there. He always stayed by his side, even through the coughing fits and the tears of pain. 

It was a day like this, when Wooyoung had him wrapped up in copious amounts of blankets and held tightly in his arms, that Wooyoung asked him, “Sannie, where do you want to get married?” 

San hadn’t thought about that much. He knew Korea wasn’t an option, but hadn’t put any consideration into where he wanted to go. “I don’t know. Where do _you_ want to get married?” he shot back. 

Wooyoung hummed in consideration as his fingers gently rubbed circles into San’s abdomen. “Somewhere we can get nice wedding photos,” he said. It was a cute answer in his opinion, and it made him laugh. “We can get nice wedding photos anywhere we go.”

“I know, but I want really nice ones,” Wooyoung’s whine was subtle, but San caught it. Wooyoung continued to hum thoughtfully for a while. The sound was beginning to lull San to sleep when he tapped his stomach to bring him back to the conversation. “What about Hawaii?”

“Hawaii?” San felt Wooyoung nod behind him. “Can you go get my computer?”

Wooyoung peeled himself away from San and crossed the bedroom to the desk without any complaints. When he returned, San sat up and Wooyoung slotted himself between the headboard and his body, legs wrapped around his waist and chin on his shoulder.

San opened up a browser, searched Seoul to Honolulu flights, and sifted through all the options, Wooyoung’s watchful eyes on the screen the entire time. They’d already discussed the plan at length. They’d discussed that they both wanted to be married before the surgery, before San would be so miserable that he wasn’t himself and couldn’t enjoy it. The cursor hovered over the “buy” button when he felt something wet drip onto his shoulder. He turned his head to find tears falling down Wooyoung’s cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he cooed. 

Wooyoung shook his head, wiping his eyes. “Nothing. I’m really happy.” He gave San a blinding smile. He clicked “buy” without a second thought. San didn’t care that he’d just used a good chunk of his life savings. 

This was going to be worth it in the end. 

❅

Wooyoung was exhausted. He was exhausted, he felt stinky, his legs felt like they were about to fall off from the combination of sitting for so long and being crammed in his jeans even longer, and to top it off, he still had to have an oversized cotton swab stuck up his nose. 

He knew he sounded like a whiny child, even more so when San took it like a champ, but he was beyond caring. He just wanted to go lay down. 

The woman hovering over him was counting down in English and he really wanted to tell her he didn’t understand what she was saying so there was no point, but then she was sticking it in, a hand braced on the back of his head to keep him from jerking away. 

It had to be the longest, most uncomfortable thirty seconds of his life. San was already handing over the forms with their contact information to the testing staff as Wooyoung pulled his mask back over his face. He slotted his hand into San’s as they walked out of the airport to search for the car rental area.

Thank god San paid more attention in English classes than he ever had. They’d be so lost if they were both useless at it. 

The hot air only added to his tiredness, especially when he was standing completely still while San secured them a car for the next two weeks. Wooyoung really couldn’t believe he was in Hawaii, completely new sounds and sights all around him. He could see mountains from where he was, little white houses littered all over the cliff edges. Palm trees and bread fruit trees sprouted all over. He was itching to go explore, but they were confined to their hotel room until the test results came back. 

He really hoped they came back before the wedding.

It was going to be private. They hadn’t invited anyone, not even San’s parents, not just for the safety of San’s health, but also the health of the few people they’d hired for the wedding. They’d been lucky enough to find a pastor that spoke Korean, as well as marriage license staff. 

Wooyoung felt bad that San had been using his savings for everything, so he’d begun dipping into his own savings as well. San wasn’t even able to work to replace it anymore, so he’d taken it upon himself to pay for the hotel and just over half of the wedding expenses. 

His eyes raked over San as he drove them through the unfamiliar streets. He was focused on listening to the GPS to get them to the right place, but he still looked so ethereal in the high noon sunlight shining on him, even though he looked as tired as Wooyoung felt. He’d forgone the oxygen in favor of not wrestling with it during their flight, but he still had small markings on his high cheekbones where the tubes rested that may end up being permanent. 

The second they deposited their luggage in the corner of the hotel room, Wooyoung flopped onto the bed and curled up in the middle of it with an exaggerated huff. He’d decided to spoil San and himself and picked a honeymoon suite even though they don’t deserve it yet. San sat on the bed with a deep sigh. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” San said. “Just been a long twenty hours.”

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. San followed suit and moved to lay beside him, curled around his body. Wooyoung pressed himself as close as possible. “I wanna go explore but I’m so sleepy.” 

San hummed. “You’re not going anywhere until we get positive results. If we’re lucky, it’ll only be two days. Then you’ll have three to explore to your heart’s content before you aren’t leaving this room again because you won’t be able to walk,” Wooyoung shivered at the dirty nothings whispered in his ear, but found the will to smack San on the chest. 

“I’m too tired for your dirty mouth right now.” He could see San’s smile with the back of his head. “‘Right now’.” 

“Right now. And right now, I’m going to sleep.” 

San’s giggles were music to his ears. “Take your nap, Wooyoungie.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

❅

The chiming of San’s phone woke Wooyoung up. He let out a whine that sounded god awful even to his own ears and stretched with a pout. As he felt San shifting around to answer the call he noticed that at some point after he’d fallen asleep, his fiance had pulled his jeans off his legs. 

He was reminded of how much he loved San’s morning voice when he said, “Hi, Mom” sleepily. It was always deep and raspy, and it showcased his dialect beautifully. San’s mother’s voice grew much louder all of a sudden and Wooyoung realized a beat too late that he put her on speaker. “-your flight?”

“It was fine. Long. I meant to call you when we landed, but we fell asleep.” Wooyoung curled closer to San and noticed he had his oxygen tubes in now. “Hi,” he mumbled half incoherently into the phone, and his voice sent San’s mother into a happy tizzy. 

“Hello, Wooyoung. How are you feeling? Excited?” 

“Sleepy,” San laughed at him and he weakly pushed his shoulder. “Not funny.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute when you’re tired.” A quiet sniffle was heard over the phone and Wooyoung fully cracked his eyes open. “Mom, are you crying?”

She made a sound much like one of Wooyoung’s whines. “I can’t believe my baby’s getting married,” she said. “You don’t have to cry, though. If you cry, I’ll cry,” San protested. His mother dismissed him with another sound. 

Wooyoung really didn’t think through what he was about to say. “Mom, I’ll take good care of him. Just like you asked me to.” He wasn’t sure if he regretted it or not when she sobbed into the phone, but when she spoke she sounded absolutely delighted. 

“Thank you, Wooyoung. You two go get some sleep. I just wanted to check on you.” Wooyoung knew she really just wanted to make sure San still felt okay.

“We’re okay. I love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Wooyoung drifted back off to sleep to the sight of San’s content smile.

❅

“Sannie, come on!”

Wooyoung’s whine frightened some of the wildlife in the area, namely the birds and tiny little lizards. The second negative results had come in, Wooyoung wanted to go on a hike. San couldn’t blame him; Oahu was beautiful, a range of mountains on almost every side, white beaches and coral. San wanted to explore just as bad as he did. He was just… uncertain.

But he wanted to try. Try for Wooyoung. He’d forgone oxygen again, a choice he was quickly beginning to regret. The travel website had said this trail was easy enough, but the uphill incline looked more and more daunting with each step and San was starting to fall behind. 

A little girl - she couldn’t have been older than three - looked up at him with big eyes as she and her parents breezed by him. _He just got lapped by a little girl._

Wooyoung hadn’t seemed to notice, chattering to what he thought was San still by his side about something he couldn’t make out anymore. With a sigh, he called out. “Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung looked over, then over his shoulder when he realized he wasn’t at his side anymore. “You go ahead. I’ll-I’ll wait here,” his throat constricted for more than one reason, but embarrassment was the one San could feel in his heart. He would have been able to do this without a problem a year ago, and now he was ruining it for Wooyoung. So much for trying.

San sat down on the rock nearest him, avoiding Wooyoung’s gaze that had turned sullen. He was surprised, though, when Wooyoung’s shoes appeared in his line of vision. He sat beside him on the rock and pressed in close so San had no choice but to look at him. “It’s okay if you need to take breaks,” Wooyoung gave him the softest smile he’d ever seen. “Don’t push yourself too hard.” 

San took the deepest breath he could. “I want to do things with you, but I just… can’t.”

“Of course you can. You just have to take it a little slower than everyone else. No biggie,” Wooyoung took his hand and tugged him up. “Come on.”

They slowed down. Significantly. At first San felt awful, humiliated, even, because everyone they came across seemed to be staring at them. He knew it wasn’t because of their pace, more than likely because they were foreigners, because they were holding hands, because of the ring on Wooyoung’s finger. But that didn’t stop the prickling at the back of his neck.

But then he realized how happy Wooyoung seemed. He was excited, stopping to look at almost every plant, admire flowers, and try to lure in the tiny lizards perched on rocks. His embarrassment slowly ebbed away, infected by Wooyoung’s mood, his excitement. 

He didn’t even realize it when they reached the end of the trail.

The view stole what was left of his breath. Stunning didn’t begin to describe it. The rocky terrain under San’s feet, the white beach below them, and the little lighthouse with a red roof all made for a perfect picture, but even that wasn’t enough to capture the beauty. 

Wooyoung had already beat him to photos. He was surely planning on posting them later for all their friends to see. It was a wonder how he managed to get any to focus; he was practically buzzing with excitement now. 

“Sannie, come take a picture with me.”

San closed the small distance between them as Wooyoung turned his phone camera to face them. He smushed their cheeks together and gave the camera a smile and San found it infectious, his own smile paired with it. The picture was deemed good enough and Wooyoung offered to let him see, but San shook his head. Nothing compared to Wooyoung in person, and he would much rather look at that. 

When the photo session finished, Wooyoung wrapped his arms around San’s waist and placed his chin on his shoulder. “You did it.”

“I did.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be okay.” He wasn’t lying. Sure, he would need to be attached at the hip to his oxygen tank for the next twelve hours and he would be up all night with coughing fits, but what was new there? It was worth it. Actually _doing_ something for once, and making Wooyoung look so happy was so worth it.

❅

When San opened his eyes, he didn’t expect to have his vision blocked by a sheet of yellow. 

He pulled on the sticky note until it came away from his forehead and turned it over to find Wooyoung’s handwriting. 

_Not allowed to see the bride today._

He laughed to himself and turned over in the bed, to the empty side. It was still warm, so Wooyoung couldn’t have been gone long. He didn’t even know Wooyoung had bought a second room just for this. 

Now that he was here, San felt the nerves building up. What if Wooyoung changed his mind last minute? What if something happened before this afternoon? It was late back home, but he needed to talk to someone, and he called the only person he knew would still be awake.

“Hello?” 

“Hongjoong?” 

“Choi San.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the dull tone of voice he was getting. “What’s up?”

“I’m nervous,” he confessed.

“What’s there to be nervous about? He already said yes, there’s no reason he would decide to stop now.”

San sighed, listening to the steady hiss of air from the oxygen tank. “But what if he does? Or I have to go to the hospital before this afternoon?” He heard Hongjoong’s own responding sigh. “Talking like that only makes it come true, you know.”

“I’m still worried, though. He’s left before, and I’m scared he will again.”

“San, if you haven’t scared him off by now with all this, I think he’s pretty determined to stay.”

“He’s only staying because he thinks everything will be okay again once I have the surgery,” San mumbled. 

“ _Saaaan_ ,” Hongjoong whined. “He’s staying because he loves you. He wants you to have the surgery because he loves you. That’s it. You don’t need to be worried.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. Thanks, hyung.”

“You’re welcome. Now go get your man.”

❅

San took a few steps towards him, and then he hugged him from behind, burying his head in between Wooyoung’s neck and shoulder.

“Are you happy?” he mumbled into his shoulder, and Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat when he felt the warm breath of his now husband on his skin.

Wooyoung sighed and closed his eyes. He grasped San’s hand firmly and interlaced their fingers, looking down at his and San’s matching wedding rings. He still couldn’t quite believe that they were finally married.

“Yes. I’m very happy.”

San placed a soft kiss on his ear and hugged him more tightly.

“I’m glad,” San whispered, heavy emotion audible in his voice. “Me too. I’m so happy that it hurts to breathe,” San laughed a bit and playfully dug an elbow into his ribs at the jab.

He turned around, hugging San from the front and burying his face into his shirt.

“Thank you for everything.” His voice trembled with emotion.

“This was the least I could do,” San said and kissed his cheek, trailing his lips to his nose, then to his other cheek, and finally to his forehead.

“For you, I’d do anything. You know that.”

Wooyoung was on the verge of crying. Every time San was this honest and straightforward with him, it would touch Wooyoung to the very core. He let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob and took San’s face into his hands, bringing their foreheads together.

“So, we’re finally alone.” San’s voice was playful and affectionate at the same time, and Wooyoung felt warmth in both his chest and abdomen when he heard it.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung caressed San’s cheek, looking into his eyes longingly. They both leaned in at the same time, their lips meeting in a soft, loving kiss.

San carefully separated Wooyoung’s lips with his tongue, and as soon as their tongues connected, their kiss became much more passionate. It seemed like neither of them wanted to hold back tonight.

Wooyoung buried his fingers into San’s hair, breaking their rhythm by suddenly sucking on his tongue roughly, knowing that it drove him crazy. San moaned and let Wooyoung dominate the kiss for a while. Wooyoung switched between being rough to being extremely gentle, curling his tongue around San’s slowly then dragging his teeth over it. San started to unbutton his shirt blindly, and Wooyoung bit his bottom lip hard, not enough to draw blood but strong enough for him to feel pain. San let out a sigh and separated their lips slowly.

San finally threw Wooyoung’s shirt out of the way, humming in approval as he started trailing his hands across Wooyoung’s chest. He was moving his hands up and down slowly, making sure not to miss his nipples in the process.

Wooyoung started unbuttoning San’s shirt, but San kept pressing his fingers against his nipples, distracting him.

“San,” his hands started shaking and he kept failing to unbutton his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” He was smirking at him knowingly, rubbing at hard nubs in the way he liked the most, and Wooyoung lost it. He gave up trying to get San’s shirt off and kissed him hard. San kissed back, dragging Wooyoung’s tongue into his mouth.

Wooyoung rubbed his tongue against San’s desperately, hands wrapping around his neck. San didn’t stop teasing his nipples for even one second, and it made Wooyoung moan into his mouth and press his tongue against San’s even harder.

After a few heated minutes, Wooyoung pulled away from San, tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

“G-get it off,” he practically whined, his voice sounding too shaky for his liking.

“So impatient already,” San chuckled and did as he was told, throwing his shirt away. Before Wooyoung could make an angry retort, San pressed flush against him and started tracing his hands down his body again, making Wooyoung close his eyes and moan in approval. San’s hands eventually reached his pants, and he unbuttoned them in one swift movement. Wooyoung quickly stepped out of his pants, doing the same with his boxers.

San was smirking, eyeing his naked body up and down. Wooyoung decided to wipe that smug smirk off San’s face. He stepped forward and pushed San’s chest, making him land on the bed. Before San could even comment on his actions, Wooyoung knelt down next to the edge of the bed and unzipped San’s pants, slipping his hand in his boxers and grabbing his fully hard cock in his hand. San let out a mix of laughter and a gasp, looking at Wooyoung with an amused look on his face. Wooyoung sent him a glare and inched his head closer to his cock, placing a brief kiss on the head. He began to trail his tongue around it, teasing the slit from time to time, and San’s cock twitched in reaction.

He pulled away for a moment and tugged on San’s pants and boxers urgently, and he lifted his hips off the bed slightly in order to help Wooyoung remove them.

In the next moment, Wooyoung flattened his tongue and licked the whole shaft from base to tip. When he reached the head, he gently dragged his teeth against the head and looked up at him at the same time, drawing a breath from San.

Just when Wooyoung wanted to take his cock into his mouth completely, San lifted his hand to cup Wooyoung’s cheek and said, “Come over here.”

His voice was filled with affection, but it also promised much more, and even though Wooyoung was confused, he felt his heart beating a bit faster. San let out a short laugh when he saw Wooyoung’s reaction, and then he moved backwards on the bed, lying down and beckoning him with a finger. Wooyoung confusedly complied and got on top of him. San wrapped his arms around Wooyoung’s neck and pulled him even closer, kissing him hungrily. Wooyoung caught a hold of San’s shoulders and returned the kiss.

San broke their kiss after a few moments, bringing his lips to Wooyoung’s ear.

“Now turn around,” he whispered, giving his ear a small lick, and Wooyoung shivered, realizing what San had in mind.

Wooyoung felt his face burning up, but he did as he was told. He slowly lifted himself up, supporting himself on San’s shoulders, and then he turned his body carefully, his ass now above San’s face and his head facing his cock once again.

Even though he was not supposed to be surprised by what followed next, he still couldn’t help but twitch when he felt warm and wet tongue flick over the head of his cock.

The position that he was in was beyond embarrassing, but Wooyoung tried to remain as little self-conscious as he possibly could. He grabbed the base of San’s cock with his hand again and gave one experimental suck. It induced a moan from San, and then he felt him slowly ease his cock into his mouth as well, reaching to cup his balls with his hand at the same time.

Wooyoung felt pleasure course through his whole body. It was hard to stay focused, but he was determined to make San feel as good as he was. He started to suck up and down San’s cock, rolling his tongue around the head and along the sensitive vein of his shaft. At the same time, he felt San swallowing the whole length of his cock, and this made him close his eyes and forget about his embarrassment completely.

San’s mouth and tongue around him felt so unbelievably good that he started to slow down his movements for a few seconds, moans escaping his lips.

San suddenly sped up his rhythm, and this pushed him into action once again. He started to suck on San’s cock fast, lightly scraping his teeth along the shaft and breaking his rhythm from time to time in order to lick at the head. He felt San gasp against his flesh and Wooyoung smirked around San’s cock; the fact that San was sounding as influenced as he was made Wooyoung feel proud of his skills.

Suddenly, he felt his cock slip out of San’s mouth, and before he could even start questioning why San stopped, he felt him spread his asscheeks, and then his tongue was entering him. Wooyoung had to pull San’s cock out of his mouth for a moment in order to cry out.

San moaned in response, and he felt the vibration of it inside him, making his cock strain harder and leak precum. San started stroking his cock while he prodded him with his tongue over and over, and Wooyoung couldn’t do anything but moan for a good minute.

Then, he felt San pull away slightly and heard a familiar sound of a bottle opening- he knew that San took the lube from their night table. He breathed in and out deeply and tried to focus on the task of sucking him off. Soon he felt a lube coated finger enter him, and he accidentally scratched San’s sensitive shaft with his teeth a bit deeper than he intended, reacting to the cold sensation. San gasped, registering pain as pleasure.

Wooyoung was already slightly stretched from San’s previous actions, so San was able to slide in his finger relatively easily. He started stretching his entrance even further, still stroking his dick, occasionally cupping his balls.

“You’re dripping so much. You really love this, don’t you?” San’s voice was breathy and filled with lust. Wooyoung huffed in mild annoyance, purposely tugging a little harder than usual. San moaned, pleased with Wooyoung’s actions and proceeded to add another finger.

Soon he started moving both fingers inside him a bit faster, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but push back.

“San! Just…!” Wooyoung was quickly becoming desperate. The fingers weren’t enough anymore; he wanted San inside him so much it hurt.

“I got it,” San chuckled lightly and pulled his fingers out of him. Wooyoung got up, trying to calm down his shaking body.

San lifted his upper body slightly, and Wooyoung straddled his lap from the front, bringing their dicks into contact. They were both so wet from their previous actions that the feeling of their cocks sliding against each other felt even better than usual.

Wooyoung leaned into San’s shoulder and bit it lightly, grinding down against San’s cock and letting out a small moan in his ear. San pushed back, threading his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair.

After a few moments of slow grinding against each other, Wooyoung supported himself against San’s shoulders, lifting his ass up slightly and positioning his entrance over San’s dick. He then started to lower himself slowly, and San held his hips, helping him.

Then finally, he was fully seated. San let out a shaky sigh and leaned against Wooyoung’s forehead. Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the feeling of San inside of him. He couldn’t help but smile; being joined with San in this way was one of the best feelings in the world.

“Ah… you feel so good,” San murmured against his lips, as if reading his mind. Wooyoung pecked him on the lips in response.

San leaned his head back a bit and gazed into his eyes, smiling at him. Wooyoung returned the smile and lifted himself up and down slightly. San moaned softly, and then he took his hand, the one with the ring, lifting it to his mouth and gently kissing his knuckles. Wooyoung felt warmth spread throughout his body at San’s display of affection.

San fixed his hands on Wooyoung’s hips once again and started to move. Wooyoung gasped at the feeling and pushed down against him in response. Soon they established a slow rhythm, Wooyoung’s cock pressing against San’s belly and colliding with his navel.

Suddenly, San leaned in and hugged Wooyoung as tight as he could, nuzzling against his cheek.

“I love you,” San whispered into his ear, his voice warm and sincere, and Wooyoung felt his throat tighten.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. San sighed and placed his head underneath Wooyoung’s chin, trailing open-mouthed kisses against his neck. Wooyoung pulled at San’s hair and moaned, moving his hips up and down and rubbing himself hard against his stomach.

San kissed his way up his neck and along his jaw, eventually reaching his ear and blowing hot, _strong_ breaths against it. He started to speed up his rhythm, burying himself deeper into Wooyoung with every thrust. Suddenly, Wooyoung gasped; San managed to hit his most sensitive spot.

“Do you feel it?” he asked, his voice breathy. He licked the shell of Wooyoung’s ear, aiming for that same spot and hitting it with sharp precision.

“Ah, yes,” Wooyoung cried out in response, not being able to contain himself, meeting San’s thrusts frantically.

“You’re so eager,” San teased him.

Wooyoung felt annoyed at San’s comment, but he was too lost in pleasure to form any retort. Instead, he took San’s face in his hands and captured his lips in a desperate kiss, putting all his emotions into it.

San kissed back with equal passion, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and entering him a bit more urgently than before. Wooyoung ground down against him, wrapping his legs around the small of his back, bringing them even closer together and gasping into their kiss.

San suddenly lifted him up without warning, not breaking their kiss for one second and got up from the bed, walking with Wooyoung wrapped around him until they reached the wall.

When Wooyoung felt his back hit the cold wall, he shivered slightly, breaking their kiss for a second and gripping San’s shoulders more firmly, making sure he didn't fall down.

San proceeded to plant kisses all over his face and neck, plunging into him much harder than before. Wooyoung dug his toenails into San’s skin, pressing his face into his neck and biting it. He wasn’t able to form coherent thoughts anymore. He was completely and utterly lost in the feeling of having San inside him, his skin feeling incredibly warm in every place where their bodies touched.

San suddenly changed their rhythm, almost pulling all the way out and pushing back in abruptly, staring at him intently, eyes half-lidded with desire. He was driving Wooyoung crazy on purpose.

“San!” His voice was pleading, and San slowed his movements down even more, now entering him only halfway before pulling out.

“What is it?” His tone was now dangerously low, and he sounded as lost in pleasure as Wooyoung was.

“Harder,” he requested, his embarrassment long forgotten. San let out a gasp and complied immediately.

“Is this how you want it?” he said, panting against Wooyoung’s lips and slamming into him with brute force, his pace much quicker than before.

Wooyoung screamed and pushed back against him, his cock bouncing between them. San buried his face between Wooyoung’s neck and shoulder and Wooyoung clung to him desperately.

“Wooyoung,” San sounded like he was close himself, and Wooyoung bit his lip hard, rubbing himself against San’s stomach which was now slippery with his own precum.

“San, I can’t, I’m…!” he started, digging his nails deeply into San’s back, his orgasm quickly approaching.

San chose that moment to kiss him, pressing his tongue against his, reaching down with one hand to pump his cock, and Wooyoung lost it, moaning into San’s mouth and coming all over their stomachs. San closely followed, coming hard inside him and gasping in their kiss, eventually separating their lips gently after he came from his high.

They stayed like that for a few moments, and then San slowly pulled away from the wall and walked in the direction of their bed with Wooyoung still wrapped around him. He placed him on their bed carefully and sat next to him.

After they both cleaned themselves up, Wooyoung let out a loud sigh and lay on the bed. San did the same, propping himself up on one elbow and placing his other hand around Wooyoung’s waist.

Wooyoung wrapped his foot around San’s ankle, turning his head to look at him.

“…That felt good.”

San smiled. “Oh, but this was just the beginning. We have the whole night ahead of us.”

❅

Six months. It had been six months since San was put on the waitlist for the surgery.

And finally, _finally_ , the preop orientation had been called. 

But even then, Wooyoung thought he was going crazy. San was listening to everything the doctor told him diligently, nodding occasionally, but he wasn’t asking any of the questions that were burning inside Wooyoung. He’d decided enough was enough.

“How long does it take to fully recover?”

Both San and the doctor looked at him like they’d just remembered he was there. “Well, it usually takes three to six months, but sometimes it could take up to a year,” the doctor said to him, then turned back to address San. “It’s recommended to participate in a rehabilitation program to rebuild strength afterwards.”

“What’s the life expectancy after the surgery?”

The doctor looked between San and Wooyoung, at their linked hands before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and sighing. “Although some people have lived for ten years or more, only about half live for another five.”

Wooyoung looked to San, finding him looking completely collected. He was sure he looked the way he felt inside, which was panic. Pure panic. Ten years? Five? If that was the expectancy for after the surgery, what was it for the disease itself? 

“Wooyoung-ah, is there something wrong?”

Wooyoung shook his head, whether it was to answer the doctor or another reason, he didn’t know. San was looking at him now, as if saying “I told you so”. He stood from his seat. He sniffled, and before it could get any further, he excused himself and went back out to the waiting room. As soon as he was in a seat, the floodgates opened and a sob slipped past his lips. A few people looked at him, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t go back into the room.

❅

“Hey.” 

San sat down in the chair next to him, and Wooyoung immediately leaned against him. The tears had died down, but his eyes were still red and puffy. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. San rubbed his arm and drew him in as close as the chairs would allow. 

“Wooyoung, I told you this wouldn’t be perfect. Things won’t go back to the way they were when we met.”

“I know but I didn’t think-” Wooyoung cut himself off when his voice cracked and tears threatened to spill over again. “You thought we would have a forever together.” He nodded at San’s finishing of his thoughts. 

“You can’t leave me. I’m too fucked up for you to leave me,” he said. San kissed his temple and the action calmed him almost immediately. “I already told you I’m not going anywhere until I know you’ll be okay without me. Do you remember what I told you?” 

Wooyoung nodded even though he didn’t want to remember, didn’t even want to consider a life without San only six months after marrying him. “You told me to find someone that’ll make me happy when you’re gone.”

“Promise?” San held out his hand, pinky stuck out. 

Wooyoung linked his pinky with San’s even though the implication killed him inside. “Promise.” 

❅

San was stoned, to say the least. It would have been funny under any other circumstances, but Wooyoung was too concerned with whatever news he would get in twelve hours. The IV was already pumping San with drugs to relax him and he was both hazy and alert at the same time. 

Wooyoung refused to let go of his hand, even though Yeosang had been trying to get him to for the past ten minutes. He didn’t let go even when the nursing staff came to take him back to the operation room. 

San’s eyes landed on him and he gave Wooyoung a reassuring smile. It might have been more for himself than for him. “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Wooyoung nodded. “I’ll be right there when you wake up.” 

San’s hand slipped out of his as he was wheeled away, and thus began the longest twelve hours of Wooyoung’s life. Yeosang hardly helped. He was mostly there for supervision, but when he tried to be entertaining at first, Wooyoung just shrugged him off and he quit trying.

As he was drifting off, his name was called and when he opened his eyes, the doctor was standing in a doorway. Wooyoung stood and approached him, searching his expression for anything to clue him in on how San was. 

“The operation went well. He’s stable, and in recovery now.”

Wooyoung couldn’t help the smile that grew, but when the doctor made no moves, it began to fade. “Can - Can I go see him?” 

The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “San is… not breathing on his own as quickly as we would have liked. We’re going to keep him under anesthesia until he begins to.” Wooyoung’s brows drew together. He hadn’t noticed Yeosang coming up behind him until he was already there, listening in on the conversation. “How is he supposed to do that if he’s not awake to try?”

The doctor didn’t look pleased with having his authority questioned, especially after spending the past twelve hours digging through his husband’s chest. Still, he answered calmly, no doubt because of the extra presence of Yeosang. “We would rather save him the pain of trying.”

“Can’t I go see him, at least?”

The doctor turned and led them through the hallways.

❅

Wooyoung tried to sleep at home. He really did. He tried everywhere. The bed, the couch, the kitchen island, even, but it was all still too empty, too cold. 

Which was how he ended up back at the hospital. He was surprised they even let him in, considering it was well past three in the morning, but the exhaustion and desperation on his face must have made the staff feel bad and they relented.

San honestly looked dead. The monitor in the corner of the room steadily beeping said otherwise, but he _looked_ dead. It was all still so overwhelming, pressing down on his chest and making it impossible to breathe. But at least he finally knew even just the beginning of what San had been feeling. 

His hand had found San’s at some point, their fingers interlaced, his eyes boring into the point of contact. His head was pressed into the edge of the bed; he was too afraid to risk squishing himself onto it. The position was killing his back, but it was the only way he felt even a little calm. 

He wasn’t sure how, but it was suddenly bright outside and a nurse was coming in, one he hadn’t seen yet. She was the first to notice he hadn’t actually been asleep, fixing him with a bright smile when her eyes landed on him. 

“Good morning. You must be Wooyoung.” He made a noncommittal hum in response. The nurse didn’t seem bothered by it. “I’m just here to run some vitals, but since you’re awake, I can run some things by you before I get out of your hair.”

Wooyoung watched her work, watched her gently take San’s free hand into hers to check his oxygen level, then switch out the bags of IV fluid and pain killers he hadn’t noticed were empty. How much pain would San have been in if he were conscious? It would have been Wooyoung’s fault for not paying attention. 

The nurse finished up her tasks, humming a quiet tune to herself. When she turned to Wooyoung, he sat up a little straighter, tried to look a little more put together than he actually was. “Okay, Wooyoung. Everything looks good, considering. I do have some things to talk to you about, on the doctor’s request.” He nodded, and she went on. “He did say that San expressed some concerns about you before he went under. It was decided that we will highly recommend therapy for you throughout his recovery and afterwards, to help you cope with the situation and prepare for the worst case scenario, should it come to that.”

Wooyoung blinked twice, staring at the nurse. Therapy? Therapy doesn’t work. It doesn’t fix anything. He’s tried it before. It didn’t work when Kyungmin died, it won’t work if San-

“I don’t need it.”

The nurse’s chipper expression suddenly turned solem. “Are you sure? The doctor said that San was very worried about you here in his notes.”

“I don’t need it. I’ve tried before and it didn’t help.”

“Maybe you just hadn’t found the right therapist. It’s very normal to need these services after procedures like this. If you would just consider-”

“I don’t need it, thank you.”

The nurse gave him a small bow before leaving the room with a promise of being back later to check on San again. Wooyoung drew his feet up onto the chair and his knees against his chest, chin resting on top. His eyes fell back to San and a realization dawned on him.

His voice sounded as dead as San looked.

❅

San was merciless. 

He was abusing Wooyoung’s prostate, driving him crazy in ways he knew Wooyoung couldn’t resist. But he wasn’t allowed to make a sound. A moan, a sniffle, even a whimper would send the candle balanced precariously over his ass tipping. 

And San. Oh, he was making the most glorious sounds Wooyoung had ever heard. The contrast of his rough treatment and the praises he kept pouring over him had Wooyoung’s head spinning, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him to help swallow down the moan threatening to escape.

San’s free hand came down in a resounding smack on his ass, and Wooyoung almost broke, his back arching prettily to press himself further against San. A breathless chuckle behind him, then, “You’re determined, aren’t you?” He nodded, not taking the obvious bait. He should have been paying attention to actions more than words, though. The hand smoothed over the stinging, red skin it had just abused, and Wooyoung whined.

Before he realized what he’d done, liquid fire was dripping between his shoulder blades, trailing down his spine, and ending as it spread over his left cheek, ripping a scream from his throat. San’s other hand traveled down, around until it wrapped around Wooyoung’s neglected cock and gave it a few pumps. The pain was drowned out, replaced by burning hot pleasure, but then even that was taken from him when San pulled his hand away, almost making him sob.

“Look how wet and desperate you are, baby,” San said, drawing a moan from Wooyoung. More wax dripped onto his backside, scream no weaker than before. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung sobbed. San relented, slowing his brutal pace, but his cock was still pressed against Wooyoung’s prostate insistently. “Would you ever let Siyeon do this to you, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung shook his head desperately, pushing his hips back against San’s pelvis. “No, no,” he begged. “Please move, want to come, please.”

And San, thank fucking god, didn’t hold back. He fucked Wooyoung until he was sure he would have a line of bruises in the shape of San’s fingertips. Wooyoung tried to scramble for purchase, but his blunt nails didn't find it, clawing across the surface of the sheets. All he could do was moan as San drove into him, and when San’s fingers wrapped around his cock, the knuckle of his index finger rubbing beneath the head, it was pure fucking bliss.

Wooyoung came on a loud cry, because fuck everybody living on their floor. He was getting his brains fucked out, and they can just be jealous. His cock pulsed in San’s hand, and he knew San was close, could feel the stutter in his rhythm, each thrust that followed becoming more wild until San shoved deep, driving up into Wooyoung’s gut one more time. 

And then the fantasy was gone, and it was Wooyoung alone on his bed, toy shoved deep inside him and his own hand wrapped around his cock, candle blown out and forgotten on the bedside table, and he remembered he was only here to take a break before returning to the hospital.

❅

Friends came to visit, one by one, but they all made it at some point, and some lingered longer than they probably should have. Wooyoung kept San’s family updated, and every time the nurses switched shifts, he had to get used to someone new touching his husband without his knowing. It was okay during the day. 

But at night, when he really was alone, that crushing feeling always returned. Four days in, it was finally deemed that San was breathing on his own and he was eased off the ventilator that had effectively been keeping him alive. The anesthesia would take a little longer to wear off, but the giddiness he’d felt after being told San would be awake by morning was thrown to the side at a new revelation the nurses had told him. 

It was possible San could have memory loss after being under for so long.

The crushing had increased tenfold then, and Wooyoung hadn’t moved an inch since. He just sat, watching the rise and fall of San’s chest. It looked like a calm scene from the outside, but there was so much happening in Wooyoung’s brain that he couldn’t keep up. 

Fuck therapy. Fuck this hospital, fuck this surgery, fuck all of it.

“Sannie, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need you to wake up. Because I need to know if you remember me,” he pleaded. “You can’t forget me. All of this will be for nothing if you forget me.” He took San’s limp hand into his own, pressed his forehead against the bed as tears began to fall. “I’d rather die than do that.”

Sobs pushed themselves out and Wooyoung did nothing to stop them. The past four and a half days, he’d done nothing, didn’t acknowledge his emotions, and he was tired. Tired of sleeping sitting up, of being in complete silence, having nobody to talk to, tired of everything. He just wanted to go home, have San back.

The hand within his own twitched, then closed around his fingers. Wooyoung lifted his head, looked at the interlocked hands, then up to the face the second hand belonged to. He was met with confused, unfocused eyes, but when they landed on him, they lit up - _recognition_ \- and the smallest of smiles grew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are fast approaching the end. 
> 
> I have a deep respect for Hawaii. I lived there for a few months, around the area of the trail they took, Makapu'u Point Lighthouse. It's beautiful, but sad at the same time. Hawaii isn't the island paradise people claim it is for everyone living there. The sad aura follows you everywhere on Oahu, so I thought it would be the perfect place to keep the optimistic yet still doubtful mindset San is in going even when he's supposed to be the happiest. 
> 
> And yes. I did deny you a wedding scene because the last wedding I went to, I was high on narcotics for a knee replacement so I don't remember it.
> 
> As always, thank you for your continued support and I hope you look forward to the ending!


	9. This is How I Feel About You, Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when he was beginning to give up, wanting to go to their room and curl up and let himself disappear into oblivion, San stood from the couch and left his phone abandoned there, unlocked. Wooyoung let himself be irked by the fact that San wasn’t walking with support like he was supposed to be, but he waited until he was out of sight before picking it up and finding it open to a chat with Hongjoong. He scrolled up to the first message sent that day.
> 
> San:  
> He isn’t going to stay with me. He wants to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING***
> 
> THIS CHAPTER DELVES VERY DEEP INTO SUICIDE
> 
> PLEASE BE AWARE, OR SKIP THE VERY LAST SECTION OF THE CHAPTER

A week after San woke up, he was able to come home. And bringing San home hurt.

Not _because_ San was home now, but because the first thing he did when he came home was go to their bedroom and go to sleep. He didn’t even spare a glance at all the food prep Wooyoung had put together the night before for dinner. But Wooyoung let it slide because he understood. It had been a long week for both of them.

Then San would refuse to hold him at night. He wanted to lay on his back, and Wooyoung understood that, but there were ways to hold someone while laying on your back. He hadn’t been held in almost two weeks, and being denied so blatantly hurt. But again, Wooyoung let it go because he understood. 

And that was what he kept telling himself. He told himself that he understood when San switched from talking to him to texting him the majority of the time because it hurt to talk. He understood when he didn’t want to be touched as much anymore. He understood when it seemed like he was being shut out.

At least he told himself that he did.

Almost a month after the operation, while he was at work, Wooyoung resigned himself to the realization that he _didn’t_ understand, that he wanted his husband to touch him, let Wooyoung touch him, and kiss the top of his head like he used to. He let himself feel hurt, truly hurt, by it for the first time, and the reaction was so bad that his manager sent him home early. 

Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to demand answers when he opened the door to the apartment and he saw San on the couch. But he didn’t want to go that approach, didn’t want to end up in a yelling match that could undo the past month, so he just slipped his shoes off and sat down beside him, trying to press up against the warm body only to be shrugged off. 

He watched San pick up his phone and begin to type away, then set it down again. He’d been expecting his own to ping in response, but nothing came. He watched the process repeat itself until San became more invested in his phone than the show playing in the background. Still, his phone never alerted him to any messages from San. 

Just when he was beginning to give up, wanting to go to their room and curl up and let himself disappear into oblivion, San stood from the couch and left his phone abandoned there, unlocked. Wooyoung let himself be irked by the fact that San wasn’t walking with support like he was supposed to be, but he waited until he was out of sight before picking it up and finding it open to a chat with Hongjoong. He scrolled up to the first message sent that day.

**San:  
He isn’t going to stay with me. He wants to leave.**

Wooyoung’s brows drew together. Hongjoong’s reply came a few hours later.

**Hongjoong:  
Did he say that?**

**San:  
No but I can tell.  
I can’t even be upset about it.**

**Hongjoong:  
Why not? You’re about to lose your husband and you aren’t even upset?**

**San:  
I’m sad about it but I’m not upset with him.   
I wouldn’t want to do this anymore either.**

**Hongjoong:  
I’m sorry.  
We’ll all be here to help when he’s gone.   
I just thought he would stick around, considering the only reason you did this was to make _him_ happy.**

**San:  
I did too.**

Wooyoung didn’t get to read anymore because he could hear the soft pad of feet coming back. He put the phone back where he’d found it. He felt more dead inside than he ever had before. San sat back down beside him with a soft grunt of pain, and before he could take his phone back up, Wooyoung gently pulled his face until their lips met in a kiss.

But San didn’t kiss him back. His lips didn’t move, he didn’t even press in closer. Tears welled up behind Wooyoung’s eyelids and he pulled away. He tried his hardest to force the tears down, at least until he could get away if he needed to. “Why?” he asked, voice bordering on a whine. San shook his head. “Why won’t you kiss me? Why - why won’t you touch me? Why won’t you talk to me?” San’s eyes looked up and down his face as his voice finally broke. “Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Wooyoung decided it took a moment too long for San to look like he’d come up with a response. He stood from the couch and disappeared into their room, fell onto the bed and finally sank into that sweet oblivion.

❅

He woke up to the sensation of fingers trailing through his hair and the smell of something delicious. When he opened his eyes, he was first met with a takeout container, then they trailed up to a very guilty looking San. Wooyoung sat up and took the offered food, and they ate in silence.

Eventually San sighed, and then Wooyoung was hearing his voice for the first time in almost a month. “Why do you think I don’t love you anymore?”

Wooyoung didn’t want to confess to snooping through San’s phone, so he went with a half truth. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me, you don’t let me touch you. You wouldn’t hold me when all I wanted was to finally feel you back in our bed after two weeks of sleeping in a chair and by myself, and you wouldn’t even let me have that.” It was like once he started, he couldn’t stop. All his pent up feelings from the past month were coming out at once in a word vomit he couldn’t swallow down. “I’m sick of pretending I understand why you’re acting like this, because I don’t. I just want you back,” his voice cracked on the last word, then San was carefully pulling him against his side. 

San didn’t reply immediately. He waited for Wooyoung to calm down and relax against him before talking again. “Wooyoung, you’re the one who decided you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Wooyoung lifted his head to look up at San, finding his brows drawn in, his eyes conflicted. “What are you talking about?”

“In the hospital. I heard you say that you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Wooyoung searched through the chasm of his brain that he’d shoved his experience in the hospital, trying to find when he’d ever said something like that. “San, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said when he realized what San had heard. “I was scared. They’d told me you might have memory loss and I was scared you wouldn’t remember me. I didn’t want to do this if you didn’t remember me.”

San sighed, still not looking convinced. “You would have left me if I didn’t remember you?” 

It was Wooyoung’s turn to feel guilty. “No. Probably not,” he mumbled meekly. “I need you.”

San pulled him in tighter, releasing a sound of discomfort at the pressure against his chest, but Wooyoung was stopped from putting a little distance between them. “No. You said you want to be held. Let me hold you.”

And Wooyoung almost burst into tears because he finally had his San back.

❅

Month two began the rehabilitation. It was the first part of this process that San hadn’t asked Wooyoung to stay in the car, instead requesting that he come in. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was glad to finally be included.

San did ask that he stay in the waiting room, and that was fine. He was just happy to be asked to come in at all. It didn’t stop him from being nosey, though, and he looked around the corner in time to see the therapist checking the healing of the scars. She seemed to be enjoying feeling up his husband a little too much.

Maybe he wasn’t happy to be coming in after all.

About halfway through the session, the same therapist came around the corner and asked for him. She brought him over to a curtained off area, then left him to go work with others. Wooyoung poked his head past the curtains and found San laid back on the medical table, looking about ready to cry and breathing hard.

He sat in the chair next to the table and took San’s hand. Attention was on him instantly. “I can’t do this,” San said.

Wooyoung was suddenly brought back to Hawaii, to the San who looked so dejected because he couldn’t keep up on the trail. But this San looked so much more broken. This San was in pain. And Wooyoung wasn’t sure he could help this time.

He brought San’s hand to his lips. “You can.”

And San shook his head, and the movement made the fluorescent ceiling lights catch on tear tracks. “I can’t.”

Wooyoung used his free hand to wipe away the tears as they came. “You have to,” he said. “Otherwise it’ll just get worse.” It seemed the change from “can” and “have to” made all the difference in the world. San let him tug him upright, let him coddle him for a while and kiss his forehead. 

When Wooyoung went back to the waiting room, he was confident he wasn’t leaving behind the same broken San he had that day he left for Busan.

❅

Wooyoung wasn’t the kind of person that believed sex was necessary for a healthy relationship. He didn’t _need_ to be having sex with San every week.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it, or that he didn’t want it. Because he really, _really_ wanted it. 

Four to six weeks. That was how long San needed to abstain to be safe. Wooyoung knew that because he’d asked. Of course he’d asked. He’d asked a lot of questions and it just happened to come to mind. But it had been ten. Ten weeks and counting without even a hand down his back pocket.

And to make it worse, San wasn’t taking any of his bait. He wasn’t responding to any of his advances. Not the sitting in his lap, not the panties that had taken him way too much willpower to buy from work and the need to suppress the urge to smack the knowing look off Yeosang’s face when he’d done so. Not even laying down for the night and definitely not strategically positioning his (San’s) shirt just so, allowing for the swell of his bare ass to be visible enough to be ever so tantalizing. 

So yes. Wooyoung was a little frustrated, and more than a little tired of rubbing it out in the shower. 

He was practicing his little rant in the bathroom mirror when San finally emerged from whichever one of his classes he was in and decided to walk in on him, a brow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

“Myself.” 

“You’re talking to yourself in the bathroom?”

“You _don’t_ talk to yourself in the bathroom?” 

San looked at him in a way that just screamed judgement before shaking his head and snatching a towel from over Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you wonder why I think you need therapy.”

Wooyoung made himself comfortable on the counter, careful not to fall into the sink. “I don’t need therapy.”

San set his towel down and slid open the door to the shower. “Okay, well, you can take your conversation with yourself to the kitchen.”

“Why can’t I stay in here?”

“Because I’m taking a shower.” Said shower was turned on and little bullets of water pelted the linoleum. 

“Again, why can’t I stay?” 

San sighed, but he turned back to Wooyoung and held his cheeks, pressed a kiss, then two, then three to his lips. “I love you, but I really don’t want you in here talking to yourself while I’m trying to shower. It’s weird.”

Wooyoung chased after his lips when they began to move away, caught them in something filthy and desperate, and hooked his legs around the base of San’s spine. When he pulled away, they were both breathless but still managed to lock eyes. “And I love you, but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna lose it.”

When Wooyoung emerged from the bathroom, soaked but sated, he was happy to say he was no longer frustrated, nor did he have to rub it out in the shower anymore.

❅

All the time he’d spent in this room, and Wooyoung had never noticed that the only photos of him in the entire apartment were on the desk. 

There were only two. One was of the two of them around the time they met, a memory Wooyoung couldn’t recall ever happening anymore. The other was one of their wedding photos. He picked up the wedding photo with a sigh, examining it and holding it like it would fall apart if he were to squeeze too tight. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a small knock on the door, and he turned his head to find Yeosang stood in the doorframe. “Wooyoung, it’s time to go.”

Wooyoung looked around the room. It was almost completely empty now, save for the furniture and the two photos, and a bottled water that had been sitting on the bedside table for who knew how long now. “I want to stay a little longer.”

“Wooyoung-” 

“Please.” 

Yeosang sighed and stepped away from the door, back towards the rest of the apartment. “Okay. just… come let us know when you’re ready to go.” Wooyoung nodded, and watched as he disappeared, presumably into the living room. He closed the bedroom door with a soft click and went back over to the desk to pick up the other photo.

Why couldn’t he remember this? They both looked so happy. Wooyoung wanted to remember so desperately. He wanted to remember everything he possibly could, but everything that wasn’t from the past year was starting to fade away without his consent. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Wooyoung regretted more than leaving for those two years. 

Wooyoung took both photos with him to the bed where he sat down in the middle. He spread them out around him, and pulled his last bit of happiness from his pocket - His last bit of happiness, and his last bit of San, left over from the operation - and popped it in his mouth, then snatched the bottle of water from the table. He laid down, clutched the wedding photo to his chest, then after a moment’s thought, the old photo too. He wanted to remember both Sans. He wanted to remember the San he married, the one he loved so deeply even though he wasn’t able to keep his last promise to him, and he wanted to remember the San he so stupidly left behind for a woman who didn’t even love him. 

Wooyoung closed his eyes and fell asleep, never to wake up, in the bed he’d shared for so long, just like San had a week ago. He just hoped Yeosang wouldn’t scream when he found him like he had when he’d woken up that morning.


	10. Epilogue

Wooyoung was stupid.

He was so ridiculously stupid, now that he thought about it, splayed out on the concrete and with a broken coffee cup in front of him. “I’m so sorry,” he began, scrambling to pick up the cup. “I wasn’t paying attention, I'll buy you a new one. I’m so, so sorry.”

He looked up at the stranger before him, and was hit with a wave of nostalgia once he saw the man’s face, which made no sense because he’d literally never seen this man before. He would’ve remembered a face like that, and had he still been his rambunctious freshman self, would have climbed on his dick real quick. 

The man knelt down in front of him to pick up the busted lid of the cup, and the movement drew Wooyoung’s eyes to his thighs beneath his ripped jeans. They were completely smooth, not a single flaw on them. He then followed the movement of his free hand dragging through his dyed pink hair, bringing him eye to eye with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, eyes all scrunched up with the force of it and dimples so deep they shouldn’t have been real. Wooyoung spared a quick glance to the man’s neck and found it littered with freckles and beauty marks, and he recalled something he’d seen on the internet about every beauty mark and freckle on you being a place a past lover had kissed. Whoever loved this man before must have really loved him. Wooyoung himself only had two.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man’s voice was sweet and smooth like honey. “But I might take you up on the new one. Only if you let me buy one for you, though.”

And Wooyoung couldn’t say no. Not when a man this perfect was offering him a free coffee, not when he still felt like he should _know_ this man, and definitely not when he wanted to go home with his number. “Okay,” he nodded before he could give any second thoughts.

The man stood back up and offered his hand to Wooyoung, which he took. “I’m San, by the way,” he said. San. Wooyoung really liked that name. It was pretty, to go perfectly with the owner.

“Wooyoung.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Wooyoung.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end.
> 
> See, a happy ending just like I promised, depending on where you view the end as being. Would anyone be interested in seeing a sequel to this, with them exploring their second chance? Please let me know if you would!
> 
> As always, thank you for your continued support, and I look forward to seeing you in the next work!

**Author's Note:**

> You made it!
> 
> With this fic, I'm wanting to try something new with my writing style. I hope it's okay so far, but I'm trying to tweak it a bit still.


End file.
